


Learning a Lesson

by VillainousShakespeare



Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: Angst, Danger, F/M, Feels, Games, Goth!Tom Hiddleston, Kissing, Sex, Shakespeare, Smut, Teacher-Student Relationship, Teasing, Undercover, Young!Tom Hiddleston, but not really, fake identity, forbidden relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:21:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 46,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27929674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VillainousShakespeare/pseuds/VillainousShakespeare
Summary: It's your first day as a teacher and things are going well. That is, until a tall, gorgeous boy with blond curls and dramatic ways saunters into your last class. When he ignores all the swooning girls to flirt outrageously with you, it is secretly thrilling. Even more so is when he tries to steal a kiss after class ends. How long will you be able to keep your defenses up?Up and Coming actor Tom is under cover in high school for a research for a movie, but the pretty drama teacher is making the long assignment so much more enjoyable!
Relationships: Tom Hiddleston/Original Female Character(s), Young!Tom Hiddleston/OFC
Comments: 156
Kudos: 109





	1. First Day

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a dream I had the other night. It ended way too early, lol.
> 
> The character in this is sort of my combination of Magnus, young actor Tom, and Oakley for Unrelated. Hope you enjoy!

The day had been going surprisingly well, if Emily did say so herself. All of her classes had seemed engaged in the material to some extent, and no one jumped out at her as an obvious juvenile delinquent bent on disrupting things. Of course, it was the first day of the school year and things could change, but with just one class to go she was feeling pretty satisfied with herself.

That was all about to change.

It was her first official day as a teacher. She had student taught, of course, but this was different. These kids were hers to mold and teach. It helped that most of the morning classes had been freshmen and sophomores. She had always looked young for her age, and she had already been asked once for a hall pass that afternoon between classes. It was embarrassing, but hardly unexpected. Soon she hoped that everyone would realize that she was faculty and not, in fact, attending herself.

Her last class was the one she had been both dreading and excited about all day. Senior Elective - Drama. It was her one chance to teach the subject that she loved the most. American and World literature were fine, of course, but she was a theater geek at heart. Teaching students who chose to study some of the most important plays in history, what could be better? She just hoped that they didn't all tower over her and decide that she couldn't possibly be the boss of them at her age.

The first few students to enter gave her hope. Three girls, giggling together in hushed voices, entered the room. She sized them up instantly - smart, a bit nerdy, and certain to turn into stunners in a few years' time. They smiled shyly at her as one, and Emily grinned in return, instructing them to sit anywhere they liked. As the others trickled in, began to breath easy. A few of the honor society kids, a couple who bore the stamp of musical theater unmistakably, and one or two who obviously were there simply because it sounded like an easy A that they could sleep through. Well, they would learn soon enough. Theater was a participatory activity in her mind. Still, the ten girls and three boys seated before her were hardly the type to strike fear into her heart, even if some of them did have several inches on her. She could do this!

The bell was still ringing when the door opened again and a tall, lanky boy backed in, calling jovially to some person still in the hallway. His voice was surprisingly deep, and contained a laughter that sounded infectious. Emily waited impatiently for him to conclude his conversation, foot tapping and lips pursed. When he finally turned around, she felt as though she had been punched in the gut.

He was certainly tall, easily topping 6 feet as he slouched against the door frame, insouciant smile on his face. A halo of wild, noodle like blonde curls framed his face, artlessly falling across his forehead in a manner designed to make one want to reach out and brush them back. His eyes, a stunning blue that ought to be illegal, were framed by obscenely long eyelashes and, if she were not mistaken, a light touch of eyeliner to make them all the worse. Cheekbones sharp enough to cut were hidden beneath just the right amount of residual baby fat to make him appear mischievous rather than outright dangerous, but she was not certain she should trust that assumption. A black t shirt and baggy black pants draped over his long, lean lines, accessorized with black and silver jewelry at his his wrist, waist, and neck, and a silver bar through the top of one ear.

Good lord above, her high school fantasy had just sauntered into the class she was supposed to be teaching! And Emily was not entirely sure that she had surrendered that fantasy as completely as she had hoped! Certainly her confidence, riding high just seconds before, was suddenly plummeting as the young stud slowly surveyed the class, enjoying the obvious attention his late entrance and stunning looks had provoked.

"Take a seat please, you're late," Emily said stridently, hating how forced her voice sounded.

"Apologies, I got turned around. Luckily some girls were nice enough to show me the way."

No doubt, she thought as he loped to the front of the class and sat in the desk immediately in front of her. And god almighty, was that an English accent? From the way most of the girls and two of the three boys in the class were twittering behind him she was certain she had heard correctly. He looked up at her with a cocksure smile on his face and she felt an absurd wave of embarrassment, as though he could read exactly what she had been thinking about him.

"So," he asked, extending his long legs out from under the desk until the toe of one booted foot almost touched hers, "when does the teacher get here?"

"I am the teacher," Emily tried to keep the consternation from her voice as she retreated behind her desk, hoping for some sort of barrier between her and the living temptation seated before her. Blindly she pointed to where "Miss Temple" was written on the chalk board, as though that would prove something.

"Impossible. You're far too young and attractive to be the teacher," he pronounced, openly giving her a once over as the rest of the class snickered.

Emily clenched her hands to keep from tugging down her skirt to make it longer. It hit a respectable length at just above her knee, but the way he looked speculatively at her legs she wished it hit the floor. Still, she was not about to let this smug little (or, well, not so little) popinjay rattle her. 

"I am old enough. And you will find that there are no rules about a teacher's appearance," she told him. "But thank you all the same Mr -"

"Martinsson," he told you. "But you can call me Tom. And you are?"

"Very well, Tom," she sighed, ignoring the question. "Now, if I may begin the class?"

He waved his hand in a magnanimous gesture that left her unsure whether to laugh or roll her eyes or smack his smug, pretty face. She settled for turning on her heal and pulling her copy of The Complete Works of Shakespeare out of her tote bag, wishing she couldn't feel his eyes on her backside as she bent over. Pants. She would definitely be wearing pants from now on.

"Shakespeare?" one of the musical theater kids groaned. "I thought this class was going to be fun!"

"Kiss me Kate is Shakespeare," the aptly named Kate, one of the honors girls, shot back, "and so is West Side Story!"

"It's less boring with songs," the boy muttered, making most of the others laugh in agreement.

"Dude, Shakespeare isn't boring!" Emily's heretofore nemesis said, turning to look disgustedly at the poor boy behind him. "Not if you have a thought in your head, at any rate!"

"See," Kate preened, trying to catch Tom's eye as the other boy squirmed.

"It's just stuffy old men shouting made up words at each other," one of the suspected lazy kids argued.

"Not if you do it right!" Tom insisted. 

Before Emily could think to move, he unfolded his body from beneath the little wooden desk and dropped to his knees on the floor directly in front of her and began speaking with dramatic flourish.

"Teach not thy lips such scorn, for they were made  
For kissing, lady, not for such contempt.  
If thy revengeful heart cannot forgive,  
Lo, here I lend thee this sharp-pointed sword;  
Which if thou please to hide in this true bosom."

As a gasp went through the class, Tom yanked up his shirt to bare a chest more well defined than she would have imagined. Not, of course, that she had any business imagining anything at all. He thrust a pencil into her hand and held it against the naked skin, continuing his soliloquy:

"And let the soul forth that adoreth thee,  
I lay it naked to the deadly stroke,  
And humbly beg the death upon my knee.  
Nay, do not pause; for I did kill King Henry,  
But 'twas thy beauty that provoked me.  
Nay, now dispatch; 'twas I that stabb'd young Edward,  
But 'twas thy heavenly face that set me on.  
Take up the sword again, or take up me."

Emily stared, mouth gaping at the young man on his knees before her, pressing her hand to his flesh, and felt a wild urge to pull him up and kiss him senseless. The raw passion that he had infused his words with echoed in the room, impossible to miss. The lines had been rushed, and he stumbled once over the wording, but there was no faulting the fervor with which they were delivered.

After a moment of silent awe, the class erupted in spontaneous applause as he smirked and pulled himself to his feet, bringing Emily's hand to his mouth to kiss it in a ridiculous show of stage chivalry that made the class giggle but sent electricity coursing through her body. She snatched her hand back took a step away from him as he turned to bow to his cheering classmates.

"Was that Romeo?" one of the girls asked fatuously.

"No," he said disdainfully. "Romeo was a twat too stupid to think through a plan or trust his woman. That was Richard the Third."

"And does she take him?" the girl asked giggling.

"Oh, she does alright," he said with a wink. "Then he uses her to secure his kingdom, kills her, and moves on the next princess. But still, you can _feel_ his seduction in the words."

Emily watched the girl struggle to come to terms with that information and felt a pang of sympathy for her. She had the sense that this was a man, a _boy_ she reminded herself, who often had that effect on people.

"That was, er, quite the performance Mr. Martinsson," she attempted to wrench the class back. "And I agree, Shakespeare is far from boring. We will not, however, be reading Richard III right now. I thought we would start with something a bit more light. Much Ado About Nothing. Now, if you would all take out your books, I will assign parts."

"I'm afraid I don't have a book," it was Tom, of course. "We didn't move here in time for me to pick one up from the library."

"Very well, you can use mine," she sighed, glad she knew all the characters from memory.

Tom got up again, Emily wondered if he was capable of sitting still, and walked around her desk. He towered over her as he crossed behind her, and his arm casually and quite inappropriately draped around her shoulders as he passed. She twitched to dislodge him, and he shot her a guilty but hardly repentant grin in response.

"The book, Mr. Martinsson," Emily all but hissed.

"Thanks," he said, hand grazing over hers as he lifted the big tome and walked back to the desk.

"Now," she said, struggling to push down the effect he had had on her when standing so close in her space, "who wants to be Beatrice, the female lead?"

All of the female hands shot up instantly. She could hardly blame them. There was only one choice to read Benedick, and everyone knew it. Briefly she considered casting him as Claudio, or better yet, Dogberry, just to spite them all. For some reason the thought of him flirting in verse with one of these cloying little girls made her irritable. For better or worse though, her love of the play won out over her misplaced jealousy. Tom was Benedick, and Jamie, a quiet, studious girl Emily liked on sight was Beatrice. A ripple of resentment made Jamie shrink back a bit, but Emily still thought she was pleased with being cast. Who wouldn't be?

"Mr. Martinsson," Emily said as the closing bell rang, signaling the end of the class and the day, "please stay behind. I would like a word with you."

Rather than looking at all put out, Tom's face broke into that smug smile she were beginning to realize was a habitual look for him. She waited for the mob of loitering girls to finally take the hint and reluctantly leave before shutting the door behind him and turning to see him perched on the edge of her desk.

"I was hoping you'd keep me," he said confidently. "I thought you might."

"Yes well," Emily found her mouth was dry and suddenly regretted closing the door. It would look foolish to open it again though, so she tried to pull herself together. "I think we need to talk about your behavior."

"My behavior?" he asked, looking amused. 

"Yes, it was highly inappropriate for class," she scolded.

"What was? My pointing out that you were attractive?"

"Among other things. Flirting with me, kissing my hand," somehow when she listed his crimes they didn't sound nearly as bad as they had seemed at the time. If any other student had acted in such a way, she realized, she would have laughed it off and set them in their place. It was only because it was him, so attractive and utterly beyond her touch, that it was a problem.

"I apologize if I embarrassed you," he said, which wasn't really the point. "But you must know that you are very attractive. Very desirable. I would have to be blind not to notice it."

"Tom - I just said -"

"That it was inappropriate for class. We're not in class now. And you can't tell me you're not attracted to me as well. I can tell."

"That's not the point. You are a student. A child."

"I'm 18 last week," he corrected, sounding offended. "And you can't be older than 25. That's hardly enough of a difference to matter."

"There are plenty of attractive girls your own age," she said, hating them all.

"Stupid, vapid girls," he muttered.

"I'm your teacher," she said again, wondering who she was trying to convince.

"Then you don't want me to kiss you?" he asked, hopping off the desk and suddenly standing very close and towering over her.

"It's not appropriate," Emily gulped out, repeating herself.

"You didn't answer my question."

"Look, I'm not saying you're not attractive," she licked her lips and struggled to keep her thoughts together as he took another step towards he.

"You think I'm attractive?"

"You know you are, that is not the point."

"And what is the point?"

"The point is, it's wrong!"

"The point is, you want me to kiss you."

"Tom. Mr. Martinsson -"

"Tell me I'm wrong. Tell me, and I'll stop."

His hand had circled around her and was somehow at the back of her neck, forcing her to look up at him. He was enveloping her. His scent, his body heat, his bright, accented eyes, all clouded her mind and made it hard to think. His head was moving towards hers, and she knew it would be a kiss to make her toes curl.

"You're wrong," Emily gasped, closing her eyes and waiting for his lips to meet hers.

"Liar," he whispered, a mere breath away from her lips.

Dropping his hand, Tom stepped away and smiled down at her with something close to scorn in his eyes.

"I expected more from you," he told her. "I hope next time you can be honest with us both."

As she struggled to return her breathing to normal, he turned and walked out of the classroom, leaving Emily reeling.

***

"How'd it go?" his director Jonesy asked him again, making his teeth clench.

"As I said," he repeated. "Just the never ending tedium of high school. God, the U.S. version is even worse than ours was!"

"Beginning to regret asking for this?" Jonesy chuckled.

Tom considered it. He had been excited when he was cast in the new film being directed by an up and coming indie director. He was young, and what few jobs he had been given had been in period pieces of the waistcoat and ascot variety. Playing a troubled teenager in a gritty coming of age story was not something he wanted to let pass him by. 

Still, considering that his own education had been at the posh British public school of Eton, proverbial School of Kings, he had been feeling ill prepared for the role. To rectify the problem, he had asked to be placed in an American school for a month. The first day had certainly been an eyeopener, that was certain.

"No," he said. "Regretting the homework though."

"I thought you were supposed to be a troubled kid," Jonesy laughed. "Blow it off!"

He agreed with a laugh, but knew it wasn't quite true. There was one assignment he planned to do to the best of his ability. Shakespeare deserved no less, and neither did she. Miss Temple of the lovely legs and expressive eyes.

He had thought her a student at first, and was disgusted with himself for how attracted he was to her. The pretty skirt was just short enough to show her knee, and the blouse hinted at enticing curves that he couldn't help noticing. When he realized she was in fact the teacher, and a _Shakespeare teacher_ at that, he couldn't resist. He was supposed to be a dramatic kid, very well. He would use it to his advantage. It had almost killed him to flub the line near the end, but he didn't want to show his hand as an actor on the first day and ruin all the work the studio had done to arrange this for him.

He hadn't really expected her to respond to him. When she did, even though she tried to fight it, he could feel the electricity. He had not been so drawn to a woman in ages. Damn the stupid disguise!

He had wanted to kiss her desperately. Added a year to the age he was meant to be playing in an attempt to convince her it was not the worst idea in the world. He knew she had wanted it too. It was only his strict code that had made him pull back at the last minute. She said no, even if they both knew she didn't mean it. Very well, he would just have to try harder next time. It would lend some excitement to what had so far been a less than thrilling assignment. He would learn about American high school life, and she would be his sweet reward. It was only a matter of time.


	2. It was a Dark and Stormy Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom is making Emily's life hell, and she secretly loves it.

Of all the problems Emily had stressed over (and, let's be honest, she had come up with some ridiculous problems to keep her up at night) before the beginning of the school year, having a stupidly attractive student continually tempting her was not on the list. It was so far beyond the realm of what she had thought would happen that sometimes she wondered if she were dreaming. 

And yet...

Tom was everywhere. She heard his laugh, a distinctive "ehehe" in the hallway between classes. She spotted him in the parking lot leaning against his car, always surrounded by a gaggle of dreamy eyed girls hanging on his every word, as she left for the day. His eyes would catch hers as she started her walk to the tiny studio she lived in over a shop in town and his lips would tilt into a slight smile as a speculative glint lit his eyes. She even caught a glimpse of him out the window of her classroom one morning before school started running laps around the track behind the building, easily recognizable by the cloud of blond curls reflecting the morning sunlight.

Worst of all, best of all, he was in her class at the end of the day. Seated front row center, he demanded her attention from the first bell to the last. He was startlingly bright, insightful about the play, and inspiring to the other students who no longer looked at Shakespeare as a bore now that he was there to bring it to life. In other words, he was a complete menace to her peace. While his flirting never rose to the level of that first day, the suggestion was always there in his bright blue eyes and smug grin that he was just biding his time. Emily would find her eyes drifting to him even when he was not the one speaking, his beauty and energy drawing her to him like a magnate. Each time her eyes would wander to him, whether to his long, graceful neck with its triangle of freckles, or his expressive hands that seemed to never still, he seemed to sense it and flashed her a knowing look that made her blush like a guilty child. 

The only place she could escape him was the teachers' lounge where she retreated to eat her lunch. And yet, even there he was the topic of conversation more often than was good for her nerves. The school was not overly large; any new student would have drawn attention. The fact that he was smart, gorgeous, and foreign only made it worse. Emily's friend Ada, an aging hippy art teacher, was clearly smitten and rhapsodized about his perfect bone structure like to a Grecian statue. Janis the stout, stern Latin teacher was actually giggly over how perfect his pronunciation was. Only Jim, the math teacher and football coach seemed unimpressed.

"Don't see what all the fuss is about," he had sniped between bites of his sandwich. "Just another pretty boy theater freak if you ask me."

"Yes, but he's a very pretty boy," Ada had laughed.

"Did you see the way Kate Langley and Makenzie Woods were fighting over him?" Mike, the history teacher laughed. "Like cats fighting over a piece of salmon!"

"I thought Kate Langley was dating the Simmons boy," Janis questioned.

"Not any more apparently," Mike chuckled good naturedly. "The Martinsson kid has them all on a string these days. Hopefully he'll settle on one of them soon things can go back to normal. Otherwise all the other guys are going to be out of luck. You ladies sure do love an accent!"

"And curls," Ada added. "Don't forget the curls!"

"Back when I was in school we would have dealt with by now," Jim said sourly. "Hold him down and shave those pretty blond ringlets off and see how the girls like him then."

"Well, thank goodness it's not like that here!" Ada said, horrified.

You had to agree, although you suspected he would still draw every eye even without the glorious curls. Tom's appeal came as much from his exuberant personality as it did from his stunning looks. Of course, a man like Jim Howard was never going to see that. A former jock gone soft, he was approaching that age when too much beer caught up with men. A slim young stud like Tom would represent everything he never was and never would be.

The worst part was that Jim seemed to have taken a liking to Emily, and was constantly offering to do things for her. From trying to carry her books for her to offering rides to and from work, he seemed intent on being her knight in shining armor. It was kind, but unwanted or needed. 

"So, Em, you get a car yet?" he asked now, right on cue.

"No, and no plans to," she sighed, having already had this discussion. "I can walk everywhere I need."

"Well, it looks like rain tonight," he told her, as if she couldn't see the weather for herself.

"Thank you, but I'll be fine," she demurred.

"Well, if you change your mind, just find me in the parking lot," he shrugged.

Emily gave him a facsimile of a smile, packed the remains of her lunch, and quickly fled. It seemed even the staff room was to give her no peace.

Things only got worse when the final period arrived and it was time for Drama class. She walked in after a quick run to the bathroom to find alpha girls Kate and Mackenzie in the middle of a shouting match, and it took her a few minutes to get everyone settled back into their seats. 

"Now," she said when at last there was silence, "what seems to be the problem?"

"Jamie's sick," Zack, who had quickly become a friend of Tom's, said with a long suffering sigh. "Mackenzie and Kate were arguing over who gets to read Beatrice in her absence."

"We should have assigned understudies," one of the other girls huffed.

"I have more experience," Kate insisted. "It really should be me."

"I thought the purpose of the class was to get experience," Mackenzie countered.

"By torturing the rest of us?" Kate sniped.

"Why don't you just read it, Miss Temple?" Tom suggested, raising his eyebrow in challenge. "Unless you can't actually read Shakespeare."

"Oooh!" the rest of the class all chimed in, perfectly predictably. 

Emily knew exactly what he was doing. The cheeky grin he flashed was not even making a pretense of hiding his intentions. He would hardly get her so easily.

"Miss Temple is too old to read Beatrice," Kate sneered. "It would be ridiculous."

Emily felt her blood boil, and knew a sudden urge to put the uppity girl in her place.

"Very well, Mr. Martinsson," she said, pointedly ignoring Kate's remark, "let's see if you can keep up with a pro."

Another chorus of "ooh"s greeted this, as Tom's face split into a huge grin. He hopped out of his chair and turned to face her in the front of the room, huge Shakespeare book held easily in one of his mammoth hands. Despite her better judgment, Emily felt a surge of excitement as she squared off against him, not bothering to even hold the book. She had played Beatrice two years prior in a school production, though her Benedick had been nowhere near as appealing as Tom.

 _"Lady Beatrice, have you wept all this while?"_ Tom asked, concern in his eyes.  
  
 _"Yea, and I will weep a while longer,"_ Emily replied, stepping back into character.  
  
 _"I will not desire that."_

 _"You have no reason; I do it freely."_  
  
 _"Surely I do believe your fair cousin is wronged."_  
  
 _"Ah, how much might the man deserve of me that would right her!"_  
  
 _"Is there any way to show such friendship?"_  
  
 _"A very even way, but no such friend."_  
  
 _"May a man do it?"_ Tom puffed out his chest, getting more into it.  
  
 _"It is a man's office, but not yours."_  
  
 _"I do love nothing in the world so well as you: is not that strange?"_ Tom looked her straight in the eyes as he said the words, and the hoots of the class faded into the distance for Emily.  
  
 _"As strange as the thing I know not,"_ Emily answered him. _"It were as possible for me to say I loved nothing so well as you: but believe me not; and yet I lie not; I confess nothing, nor I deny nothing. I am sorry for my cousin."_  
  
 _"By my sword, Beatrice, thou lovest me,"_ the words seemed to no longer be about fictional characters as Tom grabbed Emily's hand, setting the book on her desk as he did.  
  
 _"Do not swear, and eat it,"_ she could feel the energy crackling between them.  
  
 _"I will swear by it that you love me; and I will make him eat it that says I love not you."_  
  
 _"Will you not eat your word?"_  
  
 _"With no sauce that can be devised to it. I protest I love thee,"_ his intensity was causing a pool of moisture to gather in Emily's center.  
  
 _"Why, then, God forgive me!"_ Emily moaned, meaning it on a level apart from the play.  
  
 _"What offence, sweet Beatrice?"_

 _"You have stayed me in a happy hour: I was about to protest I loved you,"_ she told him.  
  
 _"And do it with all thy heart,"_ he urged.  
  
 _"I love you with so much of my heart that none is left to protest,"_ the words flew out of her mouth.  
  
 _"Come, bid me do any thing for thee."_  
  
 _"Kill Claudio,"_ she said, after briefly remembering the plot.

 _"Ha! not for the wide world."_  
  
 _"You kill me to deny it. Farewell,"_ Emily turned to walk away, but Tom's grip on her hand tightened, pulling her back around and closer in to his body.  
  
 _"Tarry, sweet Beatrice,"_ he entreated with words and eyes.  
  
 _"I am gone, though I am here: there is no love in you: nay, I pray you, let me go,"_ Emily spoke the last words directly to him, hoping and dreading that he would drop his ill-thought pursuit of her.  
  
 _"Beatrice,--"_  
  
 _"In faith, I will go."_  
  
 _"We'll be friends first,"_ he suggested, making the class laugh as his arm went around her waist in a far from just friends manner.  
  
 _"You dare easier be friends with me than fight with mine enemy,"_ Emily seethed.  
  
 _"Is Claudio thine enemy?"_  
  
 _"Is he not approved in the height a villain, that hath slandered, scorned, dishonoured my kinswoman? O that I were a man! What, bear her in hand until they come to take hands; and then, with public accusation, uncovered slander, unmitigated rancour, --O God, that I were a man! I would eat his heart in the market-place," s_ he put all her frustration into the lines.

  
 _"Hear me, Beatrice,--"_  
  
 _"Talk with a man out at a window! A proper saying!"_  
  
 _"Nay, but, Beatrice,--"_  
  
 _"Sweet Hero! She is wronged, she is slandered, she is undone,"_ Emily was undone.  
  
 _"Beat--"_  
  
 _"Princes and counties! Surely, a princely testimony, a goodly count, Count Comfect; a sweet gallant, surely! O that I were a man for his sake! or that I had any friend would be a man for my sake! But manhood is melted into courtesies, valour into compliment, and men are only turned into tongue, and trim ones too: he is now as valiant as Hercules_ _that only tells a lie and swears it. I cannot be a man with wishing, therefore I will die a woman with grieving,"_ she began pounding ineffectually on against him and ended sobbing into his chest.  
  
 _"Tarry, good Beatrice. By this hand, I love thee,"_ he murmured, lifting her chin delicately.  
  
 _"Use it for my love some other way than swearing by it."_  
  
 _"Think you in your soul the Count Claudio hath wronged Hero?"_ Tom as well seemed to be struggling to remember the play as he stroked her hair.  
  
 _"Yea, as sure as I have a thought or a soul."_  
  
 _"Enough, I am engaged; I will challenge him. I will kiss your hand, and so I leave you,"_ his lips brushed against the back of her hand, and then the palm as well as he turned it over to kiss there. _"By this hand, Claudio shall render me a dear account. As you hear of me, so think of me. Go, comfort your cousin: I must say she is dead: and so, farewell."_

After a moment of stunned quiet the class erupted once more into thunderous applause. Emily blinked dazedly at her scene partner and read a similar befuddlement in his face. As quickly as she saw it, however, it was replaced with his bright sunshine of a smile as he turned and bowed florally to her, eliciting even more applause. Emily couldn't help but notice that as he bowed to her he tugged down his shirt to cover the slight tenting in his jeans that she had been distinctly aware of while pressed against him.

"Miss Temple, is everything okay in here?" the door to the room swung open and Jim stuck his head in, eyes narrowing when he saw Tom standing close to her.

"Just fine, Mr. Howard, thank you," she said, face flushing with embarrassment as the class giggled. 

"It sounded a little out of control. Just let me know if you need anything," he glared at Tom, who openly rolled his eyes.

"I have everything perfectly under control," she snapped, insulted by his words. "We were just reading Much Ado."

"It was really hot!" Zack enthused. "Miss Temple should be an actress!"

"That so," Jim did not look pleased. "Well, it's a good thing for all of you that she had more sense than that. Miss Temple, if you need a ride, just come find me after class. I'd be glad to see you home."

"Wanker," Tom muttered under his breath as Jim left. Emily heartily agreed and had to work to stifle a laugh.

"Well," she took a deep breath, the spell of the acting having been broken by the math teacher's interruption. "We seem to have disrupted our neighbors. Well done. Theater should be disrupted. But only for the right reasons! But now, why don't you look at the questions in your book at the end of the scene, and see if you can make sense of them."

The expected round of groans greeted her words, but she was able to refocus them on the work without too much effort. She just wished she could so easily focus herself.

When the day ended, Emily made sure to wait a good 45 minutes before exiting her class, certain that Jim Howard would be waiting to pounce and offer her a ride. She was not sure why she was so resistant to letting him drive her home, but the idea of being alone in a car with him turned her stomach.

She was beginning to regret her decision as she plodded home that evening. The shower that everyone had been anticipating had manifested itself instead as a torrential downpour. Emily could not even see five inches in front of her, and within five minutes her umbrella was broken and she was soaked to the skin. When she heard a car approaching her, she decided that she would accept a ride even from Satan himself should he offer one.

"Miss Temple, is that you?" an accented voice demanded about the thunder and wind.

Of course, she thought, closing her eyes. Satan would be easier than this.

"Hi Tom," she gave a soggy wave. "Just walking home."

"Well get in, I'll give you a ride," he offered.

"Oh, that's okay," she said miserably. "I don't mind walking."

"Don't be completely daft," he scoffed. "You'll either catch your death from the rain or be hit by a car that can't see you. Now get in. I'm not asking."

Emily was uncertain if it was the tone of command in his voice, her miserable state, or some combination of the two, but she found herself pushing aside her hesitation and climbing into the passenger seat of a sporty little car that was wonderfully warm and dry. The car was surprisingly neat for belonging to a teenage boy. There were no soda cans or takeout boxes to be found, and the smell that lingered was the one she associated with him. A slightly spicy, citrusy aroma she always wanted to inhale. He smiled at her as she did her best to push her dripping hair back from her face, then quickly took off his black leather jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders.

"You look positively chilled to the bone," he remarked, rubbing her arms as she shivered. "Where do you live, we need to get you out of those wet things."

Emily ignored the flip her stomach gave at the idea of him getting her out of her clothes and gave him her address. She smiled when he reminded her of her seatbelt like a bossy dad, and allowed herself to burrow into the warmth of his jacket. If she were a high school girl instead of a teacher, she thought, this would be the beginning of a romantic dream. As it was she needed to find a way to calm down her thoughts that kept trying to veer off into strictly forbidden directions as she watched him, very James Dean in his white tshirt and dark jeans, carefully navigate the treacherous roads.

By they time they reached her street it was hard for him to even find the road.

"How far away do you live?" she asked, worrying about his safety.

"Out by the mall," he shrugged.

"That's half an hour in good weather!" she said, alarmed. "You can't drive that far in this."

Tom looked at her, not wanting to jump to assumptions.

"I guess you better come up," she grumbled, frantically trying to remember if she had made her bed or left anything incriminating lying about.

Not waiting to hear his answer after catching his quick smile, she opened the door and stepped back into the storm. It was a fitting metaphor for her emotions she decided. She fumbled for her keys and then led the way up a narrow flight of steps to her apartment, all to aware of how close he was behind her.

When they got inside Emily said a prayer of thanks silently that it was more or less fit for human view. Not that there was much to the place. She had a small kitchen big enough for one, a little living space with a tv, couch, coffee table, and shelves. Most of the free space was occupied by the stacks of books that didn't fit onto the shelves. She had just not been able to leave them in storage when she moved in. It would have felt like abandoning old friends. A door to one side led off to a utilitarian bathroom. And then there was the bed. As she did a scan around the room it caught her attention and loomed large, a symbol of sin as big as a scarlet A.

"Oh, you're soaked no too!" she blurted out when she turned to look at him.

His white tee was glued to his body, rendered all but see through by the rain. She had caught a glimpse of his chest that first day, but somehow the muscles were even more defined by the shirt than they had been when bare. His gorgeous curls were tightly wound from the water, and looked more copper now than gold. A bright flush lit his cheeks as he too found his eyes wandering to the bed.

"Cozy," was all he said.

"Let me get you a towel." 

Emily took off his jacket and hung it on the back of the door to drip onto the wooden floor. She all but ran into the bathroom and flinched when she looked into the mirror. She looked like a drowned rat. Well, at least that should put an end to his infatuation, she supposed. She should be happy about that. Why then was she thoroughly depressed by the idea?

***

Tom could not believe his luck. He had never guessed he would so easily be invited into her home, or that it would be so very intimate. He liked everything he saw of it, from the piles of books that took up so much space, to the silly pictures of her with what had to be family on the icebox. It all seemed very much her, he thought as he glanced down at a stack of mail on the counter. Emily Temple. Emily. It suited her. Much better than the formal Miss Temple.

He had feared that he had given the game away that afternoon. When he realized that that prissy little Kate had actually provoked her into reading opposite him, he had not been able to resist giving it his all. It was no surprise to him that she had known the lines for the scene. A week in her class had shown her to be ardently devoted to the work. He liked using the word ardent with her, wondered in what other ways it might apply.

Putting down the book and going full choreography had been involuntary. He needed, truly _needed_ to hold her in that moment. The character demanded it, and more to the point so did his body. Had he not dragged her to him the whole damn class would have seen how hard she was making him. As it was he was sure she had felt his desire for her, it was not as though he were trying to hide it from her.

Then that damn maths teacher had to interrupt and ruin everything. It was always fucking maths tripping him up. He didn't like the way man's eyes watched Emily, as though he were stalking her. He had stayed after, loitering about the halls, to make sure that Emily wasn't ambushed on her way out. His smart woman had taken the back door, skirting the parking lot. It had thrown off Mr. Howard, but unfortunately had also prevented him from reaching her before she was completely drenched. 

Maybe that was also for the best, he decided as she exited the bathroom, skirt and blouse clinging to her body. He had known, despite the baggy tops she wore, that she had curves. Now he had tangible proof of his theory. He could feel his blood heading south as she shyly handed him a towel. After a moment's hesitation, he decided to be proactive and stripped his shirt off, then fluffed his hair with the towel.

"It will dry quicker this way," he said as she gaped at him. "You don't mind, do you?"

"No, of course not," she answered in a rush, grabbing his shirt and laying it out on the radiator.

"Thank you, Emily."

"How did you-"

"The mail," he grinned. "Don't worry, I wasn't snooping. It was just out on the counter. It's a pretty name."

"My name is Miss Temple to my students," she told him primly.

"We're not in class now. Don't you want to take your clothes off?"

"Excuse me?!" her voice skittered up delightfully.

"They're all wet," he explained in a reasonable voice. 

"Mr. Martinsson,"

"Tom," he said, taking a step towards her.

"We've done this already," she sighed.

"We have," he nodded, eyes looking at her lips. "That first day. You lied about wanting me to kiss you."

"I didn't lie."

"Lie."

"Why are you doing this?" she asked.

Tom thought about it for a moment. He wasn't sure, really. Oh, he knew he wanted her. Desperately. Knew that he thought she was gorgeous. He also was self aware enough to acknowledge that he liked the challenge. School had been a lot easier and a lot more boring than he remembered. Only his interactions with her had added any spark to his days. He was the one stalking her, really. Looking for ways to get her to notice him. It had been thrilling. But none of that was the strongest reason.

"You like Shakespeare as much as I do," he said at last. "Do you have any idea how damn sexy that is? How damn sexy you are?"

"Tom," he could feel her wavering.

"When we read together today, that was not an assignment. You know that as much as I do. That was a coming together. A merging. We completed each other. Don't you want to see in what other ways we could do that?"

"I'm your teacher," the words sounded rote, no real force behind them.

"Tell me you don't want me to kiss you," he demanded, stepping in and letting his arm encircle her waist.

"We shouldn't do this."

"I disagree. I will show you exactly why we should do this. How I can take your breath away and you can make me see stars. How perfectly we could fit together. Or you can stop that from happening. Tell me you don't want it, and we sit here and make small talk until the storm passes and it's safe for me to go."

"I..." her eyes pleaded with his.

"Yes?" he moved his head down and rubbed his nose against hers.

"I shouldn't."

"We should."

He went slow. So painstakingly slow that he could hear the little bit of blood not residing in his cock pounding in his ears. He wanted to give her time, not because he thought she would stop him, but to make it clear to her that she wasn't going to. When she closed her eyes, he knew he had her. Savoring the moment, he brought his lips down and brushed them against hers in a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Could not resist adding in the Much Ado scene. I mean, could you IMAGINE getting to do that with him! (floats off into my own imagination, never to return)


	3. A Night In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plot - and the kiss - deepens!

His lips were soft and warm, and his mouth tasted like mint.

She had fantasized about this kiss since the first day in her classroom. Part of her had hoped that it would be clumsy and rushed, a boy's kiss before he had learned how to do it properly. Such a kiss would have reminded her of how young he was, how inappropriate it was to be indulging him. Some women may have wanted to be the one to teach a man how to make love to a woman, but Emily was not one of them.

For better and for worse, Tom required no instruction. When his lips brushed against hers it was with a confidence that belied his years. He started gently, sliding his mouth along hers with a teasing lightness that made her yearn for more. He coaxed her patiently with little licks and nips against her lips until she opened to allow him entrance. When his tongue dipped into her mouth, she let out a little sigh, melting closer to him.

Tom was in no rush to move things along, taking his time to thoroughly kiss her. She deserved to be kissed until her knees were weak, and he was just the man to do it. She was deliciously pliant in his arms, letting him lead her back a few steps until his legs hit the bed and then down to sit on the edge of it. He continued for some time, luxuriating in exploring her mouth. She kissed sweetly, almost shyly. 

When he felt her beginning to become restless for more, he slid his hand gently beneath the bottom of her blouse, rubbing his thumb along the stripe of skin between the waistband of her skirt and the bottom of her bra. Emily shivered at the simple touch, a reaction that betrayed her mounting need. Tom let his kisses trail down her neck, careful not to mark her skin no matter how much he might want to do so. He was not such a cad that he would wish to put her job at risk.

"Oh god," she moaned as he kissed behind her ear.

"You are so beautiful," he told her, hand moving upward to feel her breast through her silky bra. "You know that, don't you? Know how much you drive me insane in class, how much I want to touch you? That's why you wear these little skirts, isn't it? So that I can't help but see your luscious legs."

"No," she whimpered, shaking her head. "I don't do that."

"Don't you?" he smiled, kissing the tip of her nose. "Damn it, Emily, every time you walk by my desk I just long to do this."

His second hand left her back and slid up under her skirt. Emily gasped, but let her thighs drift apart. Tom took this as permission and dragged his finger tips over her panties, feeling her heat. He stroked her once or twice through the material, wanting to make sure she didn't intend to stop him, and then gently pushed it aside so that he had access to her folds.

"Have you imagined this?" he asked her, kissing her other ear as his fingers began exploring her. "Imagined me having my way with you while you try to teach your lesson? Judging by how wet you are, I think you have."

"Yes," she admitted, panting as he fingered her, beginning to move up and down on his hand. 

"Good," he grinned smugly. "I want you thinking about it. About what my hands can do to you when you just give in and let me. I can smell you, you know. When you stand near me, trying not to look at me. I can smell the arousal that clings to you. It drives me wild."

Emily moaned as he curled his fingers inside her, riding them. Tom ached where he pressed against his jeans, desperate to be released. But he was desperate for something else more.

"That man that hath a tongue, I say, is no man, if with his tongue he cannot win a woman," he quoted, pulling back to look at her face. "Emily, I am desperate to have your your clit in my mouth. Let me? Please darling?"

She nodded frantically, eyes staring sightlessly at him. Tom dropped off the bed onto his knees and pushed her skirt up around her waist. Emily lifted herself herself up and he yanked her panties down and off, tossing them aside as he spread her open. His fingers continued to pleasure her as he leaned forward and sucked in her nub, groaning as he tasted her. She fell backwards on the bed, writhing and moaning. Her noises drove him on and he quickened his movements. When she finally came undone he pressed deep inside her with two fingers, and sucked hard on her clit.

"Oh my god," she breathed as he climbed back onto the bed once she had finished and pulled her head onto his naked chest.

"I'll take that as a complement," he grinned. 

"Where did you learn to do that?"

"A gentleman never tells, darling," he laughed, kissing her playfully. 

"How are you even real?"

The question, meant as a rhetorical compliment, went straight to Tom's conscience. He was not real, not the him he was presenting to her at any rate. He should tell her the truth, let her know that he was not, in fact, a student but a 23 year old actor. Still likely younger than her, but not by enough to matter. How would she react? With relief that nothing stood in the way of them, or with anger that he had lied? He had finally gotten her to lower her walls, what if confessing the truth made them shoot up again?

"Emily?"

He glanced down to where she was curled up, head tucked beneath his chin, and saw that she had fallen asleep. A small smile tilted her lips, and her face was peaceful. Giving in to the twin forces of cowardice and care, and doing his best to ignore the painful erection screaming at him for attention, Tom pressed a kiss to the top of her head and closed his eyes to rest.

***

Emily slowly surfaced from the most heavenly dream. She couldn't remember the details, but she felt remarkably warm and comfortable as she began to climb her way to consciousness. A blanket was tucked up under her chin she realized, and from somewhere nearby there was a most delicious smell. The grumbling in her stomach caused by the aroma brought her the rest of the way awake.

She was lying in her bed while a steady sheet of rain battered the window next to her. An occasional lightning bolt, followed closely by a load clap of thunder, decorated the sky. Under the noise of the storm was a pleasant baritone voice singing along with an old disco song playing quietly in the direction of her kitchenette. Blinking to focus her eyes, Emily look across the studio to see Tom, stripped down to a pair of black boxer briefs, dancing along to the music as he stirred something on her oven.

Unable to resist, Emily took a moment to admire the picture he presented. The stretchy cotton material molded itself to his firmly rounded backside, giving her an excellent view as he bopped along. Lithe muscles moved beneath his pale skin, strong and defined despite being slender. His hair had dried from the rain - she must have been out for a while - and curled medusa-like in all directions.

"Just one chance, and I will show you love, like no other, two steps above," he sang into a wooden spoon as he danced  
"On your ladder, I'll be a peg, I want your lovin', please don't make me beg,  
"I want your love  
"I want, your love  
"I want your love  
"I want, your love!"

"Tom?" she asked, padding across the floor and trying not to laugh.

Rather than jump or look at all embarrassed, he merely smiled at her as he sang. Grabbing her hand, he pulled her into a dance hold and spun around. Emily laughed as she made a token effort to resist him, but soon he was twirling her about the little kitchen area with an effortless grace and smoothness that she envied. She felt a bit like a rag doll herself, but his hand on the small of her back guiding her was so sure that she surrendered to the fun.

"I hope I didn't wake you," he said at last as the song ended. "You looked like you needed your sleep. I'm afraid I can get a little carried away when it comes to 70's Disco. A guilty pleasure, that."

"So I noticed," she laughed. "It was the smell that woke me up. What are you making? It smells divine!"

"Just a quick stir fry," he shrugged.

Emily looked into the pan to see peppers, onions, garlic, other veggies, and what looked like thin cut steak simmering away in a brown sauce. A pot next to it looked to have rice in it on low.

"You did not find all of this in my kitchen!"

"I did not. You have deplorable eating habits, judging by your cupboards. Chips and boxed macaroni and cheese? Are you twelve?" he teased. "I popped down to the market and nabbed some provisions while you slept. I hope you don't mind, I borrowed your keys."

"In this weather?" she gaped.

"I still wouldn't want to drive in it, but running a few doors down to the market wasn't so bad. I got a bit wet, but I didn't melt," he grinned. "I took off my wet things when I got inside to dry. Boots by the door, clothes on the radiator. Is that okay?"

For the first time he looked self-conscious as he glanced down at his nearly naked form. For all his sassy confidence, Emily sensed that he was not quite as sure of himself as he let on. It endeared him to her more, and she stood on her tiptoes to place a quick peck on his lips.

"After what you did for me earlier, and now cooking? I am hardly about to complain!"

"Believe me, sweetheart, it was my pleasure. The look on your face when you came will give me good pleasant and even happier showers for weeks to come."

Certain parts of him, she noticed, were becoming rather happy now. It was Emily's turn to be self-conscious, turning away with a blush as she spotted his bulge. What was she doing? This was so very, very wrong! Tom might be smart and funny and sexy as hell, but he was her student! Even if he technically wasn't a minor, it was still completely unacceptable for her to even consider a physical relationship. 

And yet, he had made her cum harder than anyone had ever done before, and demanded nothing in return, instead letting her drift off to sleep. And now he was cooking for her. If only it was one year from now, she thought. If he were a college student, even a freshman, she might feel a bit embarrassed, but there would be nothing overtly taboo about the situation.

"It's ready," he told her, turning off the burners. "You aren't a vegetarian, are you?"

"No," she assured him. "I tried it in college, but I am anemic and kept passing out. I craved red meat too much."

"We'll have to introduce you to spinach," he said, as though he intended eating together to be a regular occurrence. "I intend for you to need a lot of energy."

"Tom," she began, but he put one finger over her mouth.

"Dinner first," he told her in a voice that brooked no argument. "Then you can tell me all the reasons this is wrong afterwards."

He led her to the seating area as if it were his place rather than hers and sat her down on the small sofa. Moments later he returned with two bowls of the delicious smelling meal he had created. Emily realized she was ravenous- she had worked up quite an appetite earlier, and couldn’t wait to dig in. 

“Make sure you eat all your vegetables as well,” he told her bossily. “I need you healthy.”

“Did anyone ever tell you you were bossy?” She asked, making a face at him. 

“It may have been mentioned,” he shrugged. “It’s a byproduct of always being right.”

Emily chose not to dignify that with an answer and instead tucked into the lovely meal. She could get used to nights like this all too easily. 

“So, what do you have recorded for us to watch?” He asked, picking up her remote and flipping it in his hand. 

“Not much. I tivo-ed a BBC adaptation of Nicholas Nickleby last night. I am teaching it to my 11th graders, and want to give myself a quick brush up.

Emily wasn’t sure, but for a moment it looked as though Tom’s face went white. He began coughing and she gave him a quick pat on the back as he recovered. 

“Are you alright?”

”Yeah, just swallowed the wrong way,” he said, regaining his voice. “But as for the Dickens movie, isn’t that cheating? What does it say that the teacher is watching a movie rather than re-reading the book?”

”It says that she’s been kept quite busy recently and hasn’t had as much concentration as usual,” Emily smiled at him.

”Why Miss Temple! Has something been distracting you?” He grinned. “I do hope it’s thoughts of a certain handsome student from across the pond and all the naughty things you want to do with him."

"Yes. I plan on kidnapping him and making him my personal chef. This is wonderful, Tom!"

"Thank you, one of my few talents."

"Oh, I can think of one or two others," she told him with a smile. "So no Dickens then."

"Absolutely not," he agreed firmly. "I refuse to contribute to your delinquency."

Emily rolled her eyes expressively. If anyone was contributing to delinquency it was her! Still, after the tasty meal and the mind blowing orgasm, she was not about to argue with him. 

"Tell me about yourself," she said instead, snuggling into the crook of his arm. "Where in England exactly are you from?"

"Westminster originally, but I have spent most of my time between Oxford, Cambridge, and London."

"Are you just naming every famous city in London?" she laughed. "I suppose you summer in Liverpool?"

"Darling, no one summers in Liverpool!"

"And what do your parents do?" Emily stopped and looked at him in horror. "Oh my god, Tom, your parents!"

"What about them?" he seemed completely confused.

"Won't they be wondering what happened to you? You need to call them and let them know you're alright!"

"Darling, relax," he stroked her hair in an effort to calm her down. "My parents are... away. Out of town. For the week. No one is expecting me home. I'm all yours for as long as you want me."

"Don't tempt me," she said dryly.

"Darling, if you haven't noticed I've been trying to do exactly that since I met you. I must say I am quite happy with the results thus far. Now, my turn. Have you always wanted to be a teacher? No more fanciful aspirations?"

"I may have harbored thoughts of the stage," she admitted. "I was in all the plays in school, high school and college. I played Beatrice, actually, in a production two years ago."

"Ah, that explains it! You would be a brilliant actor. What happened?"

"Real life," she sighed. "I had to make a living, and theater didn't exactly lend itself to that. Besides, I like teaching, especially Drama. Seeing the student's faces light up when they suddenly _get_ the play - that's one of my favorite things in the world. You, on the other hand, should definitely pursue acting. Between your talent for language and you looks you would be a shoe in!"

"I intend to, as a matter of fact," he told her. "About that, Emily -"

A loud knock on the apartment door startled both of them up straight. Tom raised an eyebrow and Emily shook her head. She was certainly no expecting anyone.

"Emily, are you in home?" a male voice called through the door. "It's Jim. Jim Howard. I was worried about getting home in the storm and wanted to make sure you got home okay."

"The maths teacher?" Tom asked with a sneer in a stage whisper. "What's he doing here?"

"He lives down the street," she hissed back. 

"Em, I'm worried, open the door," his words were a bit slurred, and he banged again. 

"I have to talk to him, he'll disturb the neighbors," she whispered frantically, then called, "just a minute!" 

"Send him away," Tom demanded, face stubborn. 

"I will, but he can't see you here! Here, into the bathroom. Go!"

Tom looked like he would protest, but in the end he stormed into the bathroom with a last glare at the door. Emily took a quick look down to make sure she was presentable and went to the door. Steeling herself with a fake smile she undid the lock and opened it just far enough to look through without allowing him room to enter.

"Jim," she greeted him, "what on earth are you doing out in this weather?"

"Checking on my favorite coworker," he said with a toothy grin. "I looked for you after school to drive you home, but you vanished. I had visions of you caught in the downpour, hit by a truck or something. Figured I should come see if you were alright."

"Well, as you can see I am," she tried to make the words sound like a dismissal, but he was too dense and too tipsy to take the hint. "Just settling in for a night of grading papers and tv."

"Smells great in here! I figured you'd be a great cook. Don't suppose you have any left?"

"Oh, sorry. Just made enough stir fry for one. Nothing left."

"I'll have to get the recipe from you. Hey, can I come in and use your john? I forgot to go before I left the bar across the street."

"Oh, well actually..."

"Thanks, I'll be quick," he said, barging past her into the place.

Emily began to panic as he stepped into the room. She saw his eyes make a scan of the place and prayed he didn't notice the two plates and glasses on the coffee table. When instead he became obviously distracted by the sight of her discarded panties lying where Tom had carelessly tossed them she dashed over and kicked them under the bed.

"Sorry, the place isn't fit for guests," she said, face red. "In fact, the bathroom has been giving me problems all week. Maybe you should just go back to the bar instead."

"What kind of problems? I'm pretty handy with plumbing. Not just in the bathroom either, if you get me."

Laughing at his own joke, Jim opened the door and walked into the bathroom. Emily tore around the room, bringing the plates and glasses to the sink. She didn't know how Tom had hidden himself, but the lack of shouting seemed to indicate that Jim had not discovered him. Why, out of all the women at school had he decided to focus on her? Was it just that she lived near by? That she was new? She could only hope that his unwanted infatuation would die out soon. And that he wouldn't discover her affair with a student of course. That would be disastrous.

"Toilet worked just fine for me," he said, walking out without having run the sink. "I can come back and look at it if it gives you trouble again. Unless you just want me to stick around. We could wait out the storm together. Sure we could find something to keep us occupied."

"Sorry, I have a lot of work to do," she said, herding him towards the door.

"Oh, I see," his voice changed as his eyes flicked down to the huge pair of black men's boots near the door. A cunning look clouded his eyes as he darted them once more around the room. Emily tried not to draw attention to the shirt and jeans drying on the radiator, or the leather jacket hanging on the back of the door. "Well, stay dry, Em. Call if you need anything."

"I will. Thanks for checking on me."

As she shut the door behind him she let out an audible breath, locking the dead bolt.

"What the fuck was that all about?" Tom asked, stepping out of the bathroom.

"I don't know," Emily sighed. "I guess he has a crush."

"As if you would ever be interested in a tosser like him. Bastard!" Tom was visibly upset.

"How did he not see you?"

"I hid in the shower. He didn't bother to turn on the light. I would wipe the whole room down if I were you, he's sure to have pissed on something."

"Thank god you are quick," Emily sunk down into a chair.

"I should have come out and told him where to get off," Tom fumed, looking magnificent in his anger. "Can't the bloody twat take a hint? You did everything but slam the door in his face."

"Yeah, that would have gone well. Don't worry Jim, I'm fine. This mostly naked student, you know Tom don't you, has been taking care of me."

"And what's so wrong with that? I'd take care of you a damn sight better than that fat bastard."

"What's so wrong is it would cost me my job! And Jim is not a bastard, he is perfectly nice guy."

"He's a maths teacher!" Tom spat, as though this was the ultimate insult.

"And that's bad?"

"He is all about the bottom line," Tom said, pulling at his curls in frustration. "About fast rules and black and white. None of the shades of grey that make life worth exploring. You would be utterly wasted on the likes of him. The thought of his hands anywhere near you makes me want to do violence."

"Okay, you need to calm down," Emily told him, coming up to put a hand either of his arms. "He didn't so much as touch me."

"He wanted to," Tom muttered.

"Maybe, but I decide who gets to," Emily said, "and that does not include Jim. If you keep up this jealousy, it might not include you either."

"But if I stop... maybe it could include me?" he gave her is most wheedling, puppy dog look and Emily was lost.

"Maybe," was all she said. "Tom, what are we doing?"

"I don't know. I am hoping more sex is involved eventually, but I don't want to presume," he answered.

"I'm serious! I came close to losing my job tonight. And you, well, even if you are technically an adult you are still a student! It's not right?"

"And what would be right? You dating Mr. Howard? You've got to be closer to my age than to his! Besides, we're not in school now. Instead of thinking of all the reasons we shouldn't do this, just think of how much we could enjoy each other. I have laughed more with you tonight than I have in forever. Tell me you don't feel the same."

"I do," she admitted, defeated. "Obviously I do. But this can't go on."

"Just give me this tonight," he asked, wrapping his arms around her and swaying. "Just that long, and if you still want to walk away I won't try and stop you."

"You promise?" she asked, wondering if she wanted him to agree or not.

"On my honor," he swore.

"As if either of us have any."

"A bit, but I'm willing to lose some more to you."

"One night," she repeated.

"If that's what you want," he nodded, kissing her. "It's all up to you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So in case you aren't as deep down the rabbit hole as I am... one of Tom's first roles on tv was a small part in Nicholas Nickleby. I included a pic above, including his teeth pre actor makeover!


	4. Worth a Risk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut Alert!!! Basically, time from Tom and Emily to have some sexy time!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who stuck with this! I am sorry it took so long to post this chapter, but the end of the year hit me hard. Between family obligations and a new play I had very little time to write for two weeks. Fortunately, my muse returned and seems to have worked up quite a smutty apatite! Hope you enjoy!!!

One night. She would let herself have one night with him, and then she would walk away. After all, it would be unsafe to send him out in this weather.

Even as the excuse ran through Emily's mind she knew it was just that. Even if the stars were shining bright overhead she would not have had the resolve to kick Tom out of her apartment. Not with his arms around her as they swayed back and forth to the slow music; not with the way his mouth was moving along her neck, making her shiver as he kissed her. 

One night to feel this high, this fairy tale connection to him, and then she would return to real life and banish him to her fantasies, though even that was a dangerous place for him to reside.

"There's pudding," Tom whispered into her ear, as though he was speaking the most licentious secret in the world.

"What?" she asked, giggling slightly.

"From the store," he explained, raising his head to grin at her, eyebrows raised. "No good meal is complete without it."

"Like, tapioca?" she asked, confused.

"You Americans," he sighed, shaking his head tragically. "Pudding, as in desert. Chocolate cake in this case. Would you like some?"

"That is the most foolish question I have ever heard," she said, pulling away to look back to the kitchen.

"I thought teachers all said there were no foolish questions."

"Lies, all lies," she told him, looking through her small kitchen for the cake. "I can't tell you the number of stupid questions students ask me every day."

"I can only imagine," he grinned, opening the refrigerator and pulling out a box containing a large piece of chocolate cake. "Don't bother with utensils darling. It will just mean more to clean up."

Settling down onto one of the kitchen stools, Tom opened the box and broke off a large hunk of chocolate cake with white icing. He moved it towards Emily's mouth, and she opened in anticipation, but at the last minute he detoured his hand and popped the whole thing into his own mouth. Emily shouted in protest and swatted at him as he laughed, tongue darting out to lick stray crumbs from his lips.

"All's fair in love and chocolate," he told her as she glared at him.

"You are a child," she huffed. 

"Only when it comes to cake," he assured her, eyes darkening. "Here, I promise to be good this time."

Taking a second chunk of cake he brought his fingers all the way to her lips. Emily waited until the icing was actually touching her mouth, not trusting him, before she opened. Tom slipped the sweet confection into her mouth, and Emily closed her eyes moaned as the chocolate hit her tongue. It was delicious! As she opened her eyes, she saw that Tom was watching her with a hot expression, the one that made her insides melt. Feeling bold, she took his hand in hers and brought it back to her lips, slowly taking each finger into her mouth one at a time to suck and lick the frosting off. It was his turn to moan, his head tilting back in tantalized pleasure as she slowly cleaned his hand.

"Good lord, woman," he said as she nipped the end of his thumb, "be careful what you do!"

"I was being careful," she told him, looking up at him from beneath her eyelashes. "Didn't you like it? Parts of you certainly seemed to."

As she spoke, Emily brought her hand down to cup the erection that had grown rail hard at her stunt. Tom sucked in his breath and pressed into her hand, trying to maintain his composure.

"Oh, I liked it right enough," he said through clenched teeth. 

"Maybe you'd like this more?" she asked, slowly sinking to her knees.

"Emily..." Tom licked his lips.

"Don't you ever stop talking?" she asked, and determinedly pulled down his boxer briefs.

Emily swallowed as she looked at the large, purpling cock in front of her. She had known from seeing him in his underwear that he was well endowed, but had not realized just how much so until now. She felt a moment of panic that she would not be able to take enough of him in her mouth to please him, but his groan as her mere fingers caressed his length shyly was enough to restore her courage. Leaning forward, she placed a light kiss to his tip, tongue slipping out to lap the bead of precum gathering there. Tom's breath caught in his throat and his hands flexed convulsively by his sides. She licked a long stripe up the underside, getting used to the taste and feel of him, before circling his base with her hand. Taking a deep breath, she took him into her mouth and sucked long and hard, working her tongue along his length as she did so.

"Oh my god," he groaned, hand finding her hair. "Please don't stop. That feels so good."

Warmed by his praise, Emily began to move up and down on him, finding what he seemed to like and adapting as she went. Her free hand boldly wrapped around him to find his ass, that wonderful firmness that she had longed to grab since the first day. It felt just as good as she had imagined, and let herself enjoy it as she moved on him. He was doing his best to hold back, to let her set her own pace, she could feel the restraint in the way his hands tugged lightly at her hair. She flicked her eyes up to look at him, and he gasped when their eyes met.

"You are so fucking sexy," he told her, caressing her cheek where it hollowed around him. "So fucking unbelievable."

Emily smiled around him and quickened her pace, maintaining eye contact. Tom's pupils were completely blown, and his breath was coming fast and hard. To her surprise, he took a quick step back and pulled himself out of her mouth.

"Up," he grunted, holding out a hand to help her to her feet.

Tom pulled her in and kissed her hard and deep, hands fumbling at her clothing as he did. Emily's shirt quickly flew over her head and onto the floor, and her skirt wasted no time in following it to the ground. Tom pulled back again and his eyes raked over her body, feeding on every inch of exposed skin.

"Fucking beautiful," he growled. "Bed. Now. Please. I need to be inside you."

Emily scampered to the bed, throwing herself down on her back. Tom followed in two long strides and crawled on top of her, eyes still devouring her. He caged her in beneath him, holding himself up on his forearms. Leaning down, he kissed her again, hand dipping between her legs to probe her opening.

"So wet from sucking my cock," he grinned as he slid easily inside her. "Did you like that then?"

"Yes," she whispered, face blushing.

"No need to be shy, my Emily," he smiled, playing with her. "I certainly enjoyed it after all. Almost as much as I enjoyed making you cum earlier. But now... now I need to feel this hot little pussy around me. To burry myself in you. Is that alright? Do you want that too? Tell me you do."

"Oh god yes," she panted, lifting her hips to invite him. "Oh god, Tom, please fuck me."

His fingers were gone and the blunt head of his cock pressed against her entrance in their place. Emily made herself relax, even though every muscle in her body wanted to tense in anticipation. Eyes locked on hers, Tom pushed forward, slowly claiming every available inch inside her. Emily moaned at the sweet intrusion, loving the way he stretched her, glad she was wet enough to ease him in.

"Yes," he groaned, holding still once completely sheathed within her. "So tight!"

With a half feral glint in his eye, Tom began to move. Emily's leg rose to encircle his hip as he drove relentlessly into her. His mouth found hers to shower her with sloppy kisses as he took her, and her nails scraped lines down his muscled back. He was mumbling words to her between kisses, something that sounded like it could have been Shakespeare, but she was too far gone to understand. She doubted he knew himself what he was saying. All she could do was hold on and try to keep up as his body mastered hers and fucked her into the mattress. 

"Tom," she moaned as she began to feel herself coil, body longing for release.

"May I cum in you love?" he grated out from between clenched teeth. "Tell me you're on the pill."

Emily nodded frantically and Tom's face split into a wolfish grin. Without warning he lifted her legs and repositioned them on his shoulders, once more upping his pace and finding a whole new range of pleasurable spots within her.

"That's right darling," he purred. "Cum for me again. Cum on my cock."

With the way he was stimulating her clit with every thrust it was all too easy for her to follow his instructions, and soon her walls were clamping down around him as she cried out his name. Tom rode her through it, and then with a string of profanity poetic in its own right he came hard and deep within her.

***

Her breast ached, but in a pleasurable rather than painful way, and there was a lovely sensation happening between her legs. These were Emily's first thoughts upon drifting towards consciousness.

As she blinked her eyes open, it was to find a curly blond head attached to her right nipple, gently suckling as skilled fingers brushed repeatedly over her clit. Wordlessly she reached out and ran her fingers through the golden ringlets and felt a hard cock rub up and down against her leg. Tom gave her one last teasing tug with his teeth before surrendering her breast to the cool air to look up at her with a happy grin.

"Good morning beautiful," he said, voice still rough with sleep. "I hope you don't mind, you were just much too tempting to resist."

"Tom," she sighed, trying to ignore the way his still working fingers were making her need rise within her. "What time is it?"

"Six thirty," he told her, mind clearly elsewhere as he dipped one finger into her slightly sore passage.

"I have to get up!" she felt a rise of panic within her. "I have to be at school in an hour!"

"Plenty of time, love," he reassured her, kissing a spot on her neck that he had discovered the night before made her moan.

"It's a twenty minute walk! I need to shower, get my things together... I didn't grade a single paper last night!"

"Just give them all A's," he suggested, rolling on top of her.

"Tom, I'm serious!"

"Yes, I can see that," he sighed. "Very well, you said shower. I had intended to take you nice and slow this morning, but we can start with wet and soapy instead I suppose."

"I said I had to shower! You need to go home and use your own!"

"Why would I do that when there is a perfectly good one right here? And I know from our little adventure with the loathed Maths teacher yesterday that it is more than roomy enough for two. Particularly if we don't mind getting close to each other."

"Tom..."

"You said we had to hurry, and think how much time it would save if we just showered together!"

She was finding it hard to protest with his erection sliding back and forth between her legs. Emily wanted nothing more than to tilt herself slightly so that he could slide inside her and feel herself full of him again. The smile, teasing and promising at the same time as oddly innocent, was not helping matters either.

"You know," she mused, brushing a tumble of curls from his face, "when you first walked in my class I thought you were some brooding drama boy. The eyeliner, the ear bar, the black sweater... but you're not that at all. You are just a fucking bundle of sunshine, aren't you?"

Tom felt a stab of guilt. He was supposed to be the brooding boy she had assumed him to be. Developing that character was the whole purpose for his being there. Or at least it had been. He had almost completely forgotten his assignment as thoughts of Emily had completely occupied his mind. It was so hard to concentrate on anything else when his body and mind, not to mention an increasing large portion of his heart, shouted so insistently that he needed to get closer to her.

"Around you I am," he said to her at last, kissing her.

Emily surrendered to the kiss. It was just too easy to forget all of the reasons she needed to push him away. Far from "getting him out of her system" as she had hoped, the night before had only proven to her what she had guessed and feared: that Tom was the perfect lover for her. He was assertive yet respectful, taking the lead but always checking with her before taking things to the next level. He had made certain that she was satisfied before pursuing his own release. He was easily the best sex she had ever had.

"You have to go home and get fresh clothes," she tried to make her brain work.

"Why?" he asked, nibbling down her collar bone.

"You can't wear the same thing two days in a row! People will notice!"

"Jeans and a white tee? I hardly think so. I'll just forgo the underwear and call it a day. Unless you want to call in sick? Spend the day recuperating in bed?"

"You are not missing school because of me!" she insisted. "I have been bad enough, I am not going to contribute to your missing out on an education!"

Tom considered telling her that he already had an education - a double first from Cambridge, thank you very much! - but bit his tongue. He had to tell her, he knew that, but not now. He should wait until they had plenty of time to discuss things. He owed her a full explanation and the space to be angry and shout at him at leisure. He owed them both the time for prolonged and vigorous makeup sex to follow, where he would spend hours worshiping her body and showing her just how much he wanted to make thing right to her.

"Well then, we best get moving. Come on, darling, into the shower!"

Emily wasn't sure how he managed it, but somehow the force of his personality had her stumbling out of bed and being led by his wandering hands into the bathroom. She made him wait outside while she relieved herself, then did the same for him, which also allowed the water to get warm.

He was right, there was room for both of them inside. Tom gently rubbed shower gel all over body, paying particular attention to her breasts and cunt. His hands sliding over her felt strong and firm, working her up all over again. She snatched the bottle from him, deciding to regain some of the power, and took her time soaping him up as well. His body was such a beautiful construction of lithe, lean muscles, perfectly sculpted on his long bones. His soft skin and small whirls of hair were heaven to run her hands over, and the fact that he took such obvious pleasure from her touch was arousing all on its own.

When he finally spun her around and pushed her up against the cold tile wall she made no resistance, pushing out her rear towards him in invitation. Tom smacked her playfully, causing her to shriek.

"That's what I like to see," he approved, massaging her ass with his large hands. "Nice and eager for me."

"Tom," she whined, unable to stop herself.

"Oh, don't worry, I'm not about to turn down such a delicious offer!"

Suiting actions to his words, he thrust up into her, their moans of contentment joining as he bottomed out within her.

"Now, isn't this better than shower alone?" he asked rhetorically. 

"Just shut up and fuck me," she growled, not wanting to think in that moment.

"As the lady commands," he laughed.

It was fast and sloppy, the need for haste brought on by both the timing and their desperation for each other. The wet, slapping noise of their bodies meeting echoed through the room, along with their grunts and gasps. As Tom's fingers snaked around her to find her clit, Emily felt his teeth sink into her shoulder and screamed out in pleasure. He had her up on her toes as he thrust repeatedly up and into her, holding her with one arm around her tightly while the other pleasured her. The came together in a cry that she was sure all of her handful of neighbors were sure to hear.

"Now that is the way to start the day," he smiled, turning her back around to kiss her under the spray of water.

Emily silently agreed, even as guilt welled up once more. 

"Can I make you breakfast?" he asked as they exited the bath. He was toweling her off rather than seeing to himself, and Emily was trying not to find it so adorable. "I don't have time to cook you a full English, and I rather doubt you have the stuff for it in your kitchen of junk food, but I could make a quick egg or three."

"I usually just have coffee," she mumbled, rummaging through her dresser for clothing.

"I see I have my work cut out for me," he sighed, starting the coffee without bothering to dress.

"I am fine the way I am," she retorted.

"You are far more than fine," he assured her, coming over to kiss her. "I just want to see you take care of yourself. I don't want my woman falling ill."

Emily fought against the thrill his possessive words gave her and tried instead to shoot him a repressive glare. If he noticed he didn't show it, instead turning to look through her closet.

"Here, wear this," he suggested, pulling out a light blue dress with a flirty skirt.

"That's not a school dress," she told him.

"Please? You look so good in blue. Wear it just this once, for me?"

"Tom, we have to stop this!" she blurted out.

"But -"

"No! I am your teacher, not your woman as you put it."

"Why can't you be both?" he demanded. "And don't say because it's wrong, as if that really means anything."

"Because I could lose my job!" 

That shut him up, but only for a moment. She saw the wheels spinning in his mind and knew he was not content to let it rest.

"No one has to know," was the best he could come up with. "Emily, no one needs to find out about us. We can keep the two separate."

"We'll be caught," even she could hear the weakening in her voice.

"Not if we are careful. We're both smart people. We can make this work."

Emily looked at him where he stood, naked and hands on his hips, a pleading, longful look on his open face. How could she say no to him?

"Fine, we will try," she said, and watched his face break into a smile that would put the sun to shame. "But no flirty dresses!"

"Fair enough," he agreed quickly. "You look tempting enough in your pencil skirts anyway."

"And no driving me to and from school," she added.

Tom looked mutinous at this pronouncement.

"I won't have you walking on the road in the rain!" he insisted.

"I could always get a ride from Jim Howard," she suggested sweetly.

"No! If I don't get to drive you he certainly does not!"

"Jealous boy," she teased, standing on her tiptoes to play with his wet curls.

"When it comes to you, absolutely. I know what he thinks when he looks at you. I think the same things, but I at least care that you get some satisfaction out of it too."

"Fine, then I'll walk."

"Unless the weather is bad," he insisted. "Then you take a cab. And since you will be doing it as a favor to me, I will reimburse you for it."

"Tom..." 

"Let me protect you, Emily. Please."

"You don't play fair!"

"Not when it comes to you, no."

"Fine. But this morning, I walk. And we need to get going soon."

"You don't know how happy you are making me," he said, pulling her in for a kiss to show her.

"I just hope we don't both end up regretting this," she mumbled into his chest.

"Never. You are worth the risk."

He felt another pang of guilt at the words. He was risking nothing really, while she was risking her career. 

"So are you," she said at last.

Tom realized that he was wrong. He was risking something. He was risking his heart.


	5. The Green Eyed Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back at school, jealousy cuts both ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a while to post - I actually got to ACT this week! It was a weird live stream thing, with super strict COVID protocols, but I got to learn lines and work with a director and perform!
> 
> Now that it is over, I hope to be more regular in my updates. Love you all for sticking with me!!!

Tom's mood was buoyant as he swaggered down the halls of the school. He felt better than he had in years. Emily was everything he was looking for in a woman, and she was his. The knowledge that at this very moment somewhere in the building, while she was busily teaching, her delicious pussy was still sore from the pounding he had given it last night and this morning gave him a secret thrill he had not expected. He could not wait until the final period, when he would get to sit front row in her class and watch her try to ignore the ache between her legs.

"Tom-my," a high pitched voice called from down the hallway.

Tom rolled his eyes before turning to bestow his megawatt smile on Kate that did not quite reach his eyes. The girl grated on his last nerve. She obviously had developed a crush on him, and despite his numerous attempts to let her down gently she just didn't seem to get the message.

"Oh, hey Kate," he said as she bounced up and practically fell on him. 

"I am so excited for class today!" she cooed, ignoring the way his eyes scanned the hall around them and his arms remained crossed over his chest, clear signs that he wanted to be elsewhere.

"Yeah, why's that?" he asked, keeping his voice politely disinterested as she pawed at him.

"Shakespeare of course," she said, making the two girls inevitably in her wake giggle and exchange glances. "I just love hearing you read it! Your voice makes it all come alive - especially the romantic parts! You were born to read me poetry!"

"Probably just the accent," he dismissed her praise with a shrug. "Any bloke from England would sound the same."

"That certainly doesn't hurt," one of the other girls agreed with a laugh, before being shot a glare by the queen bee that silenced her.

"Of course, we can only hope you don't have to read opposite Miss Temple again," Kate snarked, causing Tom's eyes to focus on her for the first time.

He had, of course, been scanning the hallway to try to catch a glimpse of his favorite teacher. He knew the period was her free time, and she often came down this way to sit in the teachers lounge and eat. Not that he was stalking her... much.

"Why's that?" he asked Kate, eyes colder than usual as they met hers.

"Well, she's old!" Kate said, suddenly sounding slightly less sure of herself. "You have to admit, throwing herself at you that way is a bit desperate. Spinster Teacher is not a good look."

"I hear she's dating Mr. Howard, the Math teacher," one of Kate's friends threw in, much to Tom's annoyance.

"Well, good on her if that's true, I guess," Kate shrugged. "As long as she keeps her hands off my Tommy here."

"Did you need something, Kate?" Tom asked, patience running out and fearing he had already missed Emily.

"You're standing in front of my locker, silly," she smirked.

"As if he didn't know," one of the others giggled.

Tom silently cursed his own carelessness and moved out of the way. Just his luck that he would have stopped in front of the tedious girl's locker. Still looking knowingly at him, Kate stepped forward and, with alarmingly fake clumsiness, stumbled into him, dropping her books. Tom was forced to catch her and the next thing he knew a pair of arms were twined around his neck.

"Oh my gosh, how clumsy of me!" the clinging vine around his neck simpered, showing no signs of letting go anytime soon.

"Martinsson!" a loud, voice boomed from a few feet down the hall.

Tom closed his eyes and wished fervently that he were back in bed, preferably with Emily curled up next to him, instead of in this farce of an after school special. A large, red-faced boy in a varsity jacket was storming down the hall towards them, murder in his eyes and hands clenched into fists.

"Simmons, this isn't what it looks like," he insisted, trying to untangle himself from Kate.

"I warned you man! Stay away from my girl!" the boy shouted.

"I am not your girl Jack! I'm with Tommy now!" Kate huffed, much to Tom's horror.

"That so?" Jack growled.

"Yes!" Kate stepped away from Tom to confront her spurned beau, hands on hips.

"No, it's not. Jack, listen mate -"

"I'm not your mate! And I told you what would happen!"

Instinct drilled in from countless hours in stage combat kicked in, and Tom neatly ducked as a fist flew past his face, only to hear it smash into the locker behind him. He grabbed the flailing arm and twisted it behind Jack's back, slamming him against the wall and holding him immobile as the other boy struggled to break free, spewing toothless threats.

"What the hell is going on here?"

The wall of students that had surrounded them split like the proverbial red sea as the constant thorn in Tom's side, Mr. Howard, pushed his way to where Tom had Jack held. Realizing that half the school had poured out into the hall to watch the spectacle, Tom dropped the boy's arm as if it burned and stepped away from him.

"A misunderstanding, that's all," he said in his most placating voice, trying to defuse the situation.

"Well, you might handle misunderstandings that way in Jolly old England," the teacher fumed, "but we do not do so here! Now, someone tell me what this is all about. Mason, you were here. Tell me what happened, or no cheering for you tonight - you're benched from the game."

"Simmons caught Kate with Tom," the girl blurted out, causing a chorus of "oohs" to rise from the crowd.

"They were making out," someone else chimed in helpfully and with little regard for truth.

"That so?" Mr. Howard glared at them all.

"Kate is my girl!" Jack snarled again.

"That's fine with me!" 

Unfortunately Tom's protestation was drowned out by Kate once again insisting that she had moved on. It was just at that moment that Tom caught a flash of pale blue blouse from the far end of the hallway and realized that Emily was standing there, staring at him wide eyed and horror struck.

"Well, you boys will have all the time to work this out in detention tonight," Mr. Howard proclaimed. "Now, everybody, get to class!"

Tom wanted to rush to Emily to explain the misunderstanding, but the tableaux was broken as students began rushing to their next classroom. By the time he was able to cross the hall, she was not there any longer.

***

It was just so awful and sordid. A fist fight with another boy over one of her students? What was Emily thinking being involved with anyone who would be involved in anything like that? Even when she was a student herself she had never been one to draw that kind of attention. She was not one of the Kates of the world who thrived off of drama. She liked her life well ordered. Of course, what was she to expect when she started a clandestine affair with a student? If this was as bad as the drama got, she would be extremely lucky. 

It served her right, she supposed, for how excited she had been at the thought of seeing him. The whole beginning of the day she had been on the look out for him. Hoping to spy a flash of a smile meant just for her, or to catch his eye at some unlooked for moment. There was something wickedly exciting in the thought of such a forbidden interaction. She never would have thought being bad would be quite so intoxicating, but the truth was she had been enjoying the idea that they had their own sexy little secret.

To have her first glimpse of him be with some other girl - Kate of all people - hanging on him and claiming him as hers... it was nauseating. She had known too many mean girls like Kate not to see the shallow spite in her. Then to hear that the two of them had been kissing! She wanted to go somewhere and cry.

Instead, Emily went back to her classroom for a solitary lunch, during which she alternated between telling herself that it was for the best if Tom was really interested in Kate, she was one of his peers after all, and trying to convince herself that he would never be interested in the shallow, petty girl. Her mental flipflopping continued for the rest of day, classes barely registering as they slid one into the next, until the bell finally rang for last period.

Emily sat at her desk as the students filed in. Kate was blushing prettily, obviously enjoying the attention of being at the center of events. She smiled with feigned embarrassment and took her seat, immediately whispering and giggling with her clutch of devotees.

With less than half a minute left Tom walked in, eyes ignoring everyone else as they sought Emily out. She was uncertain what to read in them, and wished more than anything that they could be alone. As it was, she had to fake indifference as he took his seat directly in front of her, ignoring Kate's urgent gesturing to the chair next to her.

"I hear there was some excitement in the halls today," she said at last, finding her voice.

"It was awful," Kate said, voice indicating it was anything but. "Simmons tried to kill Tommy because of me! I felt so horrible!"

"Tom," he told her in clipped tones, not turning around. "Not Tommy."

"I see," Emily replied, searching his face.

There it was. The reassurance she was looking for. The look that told her that, no matter what the foolish girl might believe, he only had eyes for her. As she met his gaze, Emily could feel herself warm inside and out, and had to quickly look away before she gave too much away. The small smile that tilted his mouth just before she did was enough to let her know that Tom, at least, had seen her response. 

"Well, I suppose that's a good segue to our scene today. Benedick challenging Claudio to a duel over Hero's honor. Shall we?"

From there, the torment became the more pleasurable kind. 

First and foremost, Tom's voice was a deadly weapon. With Shakespeare working for him, he proceeded to melt her defenses as he breathed life into the character. She was glad it was not a romantic scene, but even still, the command he achieved as he barked orders at the hapless Claudio was near overpowering.

Worse, he seemed to require reassurances of his own. Emily had a habit of walking around the class as the students read, the better to make sure they were all actually focused on the play. When she got to the spot next to Tom's desk, his booted foot angled out subtly to catch her own small shoe. She stopped where she was, as she was sure was his intent, mere inches from him. As she stood, listening to him speak, hand almost touching his, he raised his eyes to hers. When his line had ended he drew in a long breath through his nose, and smiled. Emily, remembering his words of the night before about smelling her arousal, was quick to scamper away to the next row of desks, subtly clenching her thighs together at the memory.

Another time, when Claudio and Don Pedro were discussing the challenge, he had caught her attention by quietly drumming his pointer and middle fingers against his desk. To anyone else, it would look like nothing more than innocently following along with the rhythm of the meter. But to Emily, who had so recently had those fingers stroking intimately inside her, it was scandalously lurid. The smug tilt of his lips when she dared glance his way were enough to let her know that he was all to aware of what the gesture was suggesting to her. 

By the time class was over, Emily was ready to scream and pull her hair out. With nothing more than a series of innocuous moves he had managed to overcome her defenses and have her ready to tackle him in his desk chair. Considering she had begun the period convinced that she had to end things, it was quite an accomplishment.

"Miss Temple," he said, voice pitched to carry as the students began to hurry out, delighted that Friday classes had ended and the weekend was to start at last, "might I have a word with you?"

"Of course, Tom," she said, struggling to keep her voice even.

"Should I wait for you?" the grating tones of Kate asked.

"No," he said flatly, turning to look at the girl with disinterest. "I have to talk to Miss Temple about coaching me for an audition. For an all male show," he hastened to add. "Then I have detention with Mr. Howard across the hall. I will see you on Monday, Kate."

"Well, call me if you want to hook up this weekend!" she said, voice finally sounding unsure.

"I will," he lied, following her to close the door behind her.

"Coaching?" Emily asked, leaning against her desk.

"Well, if you think I need it," Tom said with a cocky shrug and a half grin. "A fellow does always want to be open to improvement."

"Tom..."

"Before you say anything, just let me speak," he said in a rush. "There is not now, nor will there ever be anything going on between me and Kate. Ever."

"I know," Emily was surprised to realize she meant it.

"I am strictly a one woman man, and that woman is far more mature, far more intelligent, and far, far more sexy than Kate could ever hope to be."

He had crossed the room slowly, so that he was standing mere inches from her. Emily looked up at him, seeing the heat in his eyes as he stared at her lips and her breath caught.

"Do you have any idea how much I want to kiss you right now?" he asked, tongue slowly dragging across his lips.

"Some, I think," she answered truthfully.

"You, my darling, smell divine."

His hand, hidden from the door by his body directly in front of hers, found its way to her knee and stroked the inside of her leg. Emily's mouth opened as she soundlessly moaned from the touch. Her hands gripped the edge of the desk as she fought for control.

"You are far too sure of yourself," she told him.

"I am sure of you," he told her, sliding his hand upward slowly as he talked. "Sure that you want me just as much as I want you. Sure that under this skirt you are all pink and swollen for me, wet enough that I could easily slide up inside you, hitting that spot you love so much."

His fingers were at her underwear now, and Emily had shamelessly allowed her legs to drift open so that he could slide the fabric aside and feel for himself how ready she was for him.

"Can I tell you a secret, sweet?" he asked her in a low voice. "I love that you were jealous. It makes me hard just thinking about it. Would you have fought that little shrew for me, my Emily?"

"Yes," she whispered, knowing it was true even though it should never have been.

"I thought so. You don't have to, you know. All I want is you. Your brilliant mind, your sweet heart, and this wonderful, hot wet cunt that sucks me in so perfectly."

"Oh god," she bit back the words, struggling not to ride his hand.

"One day, I will fuck you on this desk, hard and dirty just the way you like," he told her with quiet heat.

"Please," she was gone to propriety, only thinking about how he made her body feel.

"I'm afraid for now, we will have to settle for your cozy little apartment. I intend to have you on every surface available. Over, and over, and over again until your neighbors are sick of hearing my name. And then I will have you again. Just to remind you that all I want is to loose myself in you and fill you up with me."

"Tom..."

"I'm afraid I can't drive you home tonight, Em."

The door swung open and Tom jumped backwards, hand whipping down from under her skirt.

"I'll... I'll be with you in just a minute, Jim," she ground out, surreptitiously fixing herself. "So, it's agreed then, Mr. Martinsson. I can coach you for the audition. Just find my email on the school site and let me know when you are available."

"Martinsson, aren't you supposed to be across the hall in detention?" Jim asked sourly.

"We had some business to attend to," Emily said crisply, trying to regain her authority. It was, after all, her classroom.

"Well, I trust it's all taken care of now. I'll see you over there, Martinsson."

Tom stood mutinously still, obviously not wanting to leave her alone with the Maths teacher. Jim looked at him for a moment, bent over and picked up Tom's knapsack from where it had dropped at his feet, and shoved it into his stomach.

"Nice boots. My room, now," he barked.

With a glare that spoke of murder, Tom slowly turned and stalked out the door and across the hall.

"There's no reason to be rude," she chastised the other teacher.

"I don't like that kid," Jim told her, giving her a strange look. "He's a trouble maker. I know the type, all suave and smiles on the outside, but a snake when you get down to it. Take my advice Em, stay away from him."

"He's a student, I can hardly do that," she moved behind her desk and began packing her bag.

"Keep it that way then, none of this extra curricular shit."

"I'm just coaching him for an audition," she said through clenched teeth. "And it's really none of your business, Jim."

"Well, don't say I didn't warn you. Any plans for the weekend?"

"Oh, mostly just grading papers," she shrugged. 

"Well... get home safe."

"I will."

She held her breath until he left and then collapsed into her chair. That had been far too close! If she and Tom were going to continue with this thing between them, they would have to be much more careful in the future! 

It was only as she slung her bag over her shoulder that she realized that there really was no if. 


	6. Play Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom endures detention with Mr. Howard before joining Emily to begin their weekend of play.

If he did not know suddenly breaking character would hurt Emily, Tom would have kept on walking down the hall and out of the school for good. The idea of sitting in _that person's_ classroom and being subjected to _his_ detention was almost unbearable. Preparation be damned, he would not have put up with the maths teacher's condescending vitriol any longer.

Emily though... Emily was worth an hour of sucking up his bile and making nice with the wretched man. After all, Tom would be the one heading to her apartment when the hour was finished, sure to be welcomed with all the sexual tension they had been building up this afternoon.

That thought was enough to put a smile on his face as he crammed himself into the stupidly small desk. It was strange, the same furniture sat in Emily's room across the hall, yet he never felt so pent in there. He took out a notebook and doodled absently, all of his energy focused on the other room where Emily was even now fending off her unwanted admirer.

He was relieved when, a few minutes later, Mr. Howard tromped into the room, his heavy footfall echoing. Good then; she had managed to get rid of him without being subjected to too many of his unsubtle come-ons.

"Where's Simmons?" he asked, not really caring about the answer. "Isn't he supposed to be joining us?"

"Jack Simmons has an important game tonight," Mr. Howard said with a shrug. "He needs to eat a good meal and get ready mentally, so I let him off."

"So he throws a punch and gets off scot free while I did nothing but get out of the way of one and am stuck sitting here with you?"

"Watch your tone, Martinsson! I'm not one of your simpering female fans, all stupidly fawning over that pretty face of yours."

"Miss Temple does simper!" Tom spat, and then wanted to bite his tongue for bringing her into this.

"I never mentioned Miss Temple," Howard said, walking over to stand in front of him. "Funny that you jumped right to her."

"We were just with her," Tom replied sullenly, trying to do damage control.

"So, you've got a little bit of a thing for your English teacher, huh?" Mr. Howard smirked. "Can't say as I blame you, she is a fine looking filly. But you need to play in your own league, boy. I woman like that needs a man to tame her."

"A man like you I suppose?" Tom couldn't help but sneer.

"I don't see why not," the older man said, squaring his shoulders. "I make a good salary, and I know how to deal with a headstrong women like her. The right ways to bring her to heel. So don't go sticking that pretty face of yours into her business, or it won't be so pretty any more."

"Is that a threat, Mr. Howard?" he asked in a soft voice.

"Not at all, just a friendly word of advice. Now, until you learn your place, and how to control your temper, I think you need something else to concentrate all that youthful energy on. I expect all the problems at the end of chapter 4 done by Monday."

"That's four times what the class was assigned!" Tom protested.

"Well then, aren't you lucky you have nothing else to do for the next 52 minutes."

Tom glared at his nemesis, but resolutely didn't open his maths text book. He might have to sit here to keep up the ridiculous charade, but he'd be damned if he played the man's stupid power game. Instead, he spent the intervening hour thinking of all the ways he intended to make Emily moan and scream over the next few days. Picturing her laid out naked on the bed waiting for him was the only thing that kept him from exploding as the clock hands slowly ticked their way to his release.

"Alright, get hell out of here," Mr. Howard said at last when the time was over.

Tom stood up and gathered his things, not about to give the man the satisfaction of watching him rush. Something about the way the teacher's beady eyes stared probingly at him didn't sit well with him, and he could feel them still boring a hole into his back as he walked out the door. Was it only the fact that Emily clearly liked him, while she could hardly stand to look at Mr. Howard? Or was there more to the man's animosity?

***

Emily had been pacing the square perimeter of her apartment for what felt like hours, but had actually only been half of one. She had walked slowly home from school, knowing there was no reason to rush, and stopped in at the market to buy some food that Tom might find acceptable. She was not an accomplished cook, but she could make one of two things, and she was determined to make a better impression than she had the night before.

She had also popped into the liquor store for a bottle of wine to go with dinner. At first she had felt a pang at serving him since he was under age, but then the ridiculousness of that had forced her to break into giggles. She was already fucking him, for god's sake! How could she be prudish about giving him alcohol?

All of that had taken just under thirty minutes, which meant she had still had far too much time until he would be set free from detention. She had been worried for a moment that he was going to explode on Jim - she knew the man pushed all of his buttons for some reason. Fortunately he had gotten himself under control. She could only hope his restraint had lasted and that Jim had not been able to goad him into doing or saying anything foolish.

On top of her worries, and they were bad enough, Emily was also just damn horny. Tom seemed to instinctively know how to get her going. She had been alarmed in the extreme at how turned on she had gotten by him fingering her in her classroom, and even more so by how his comment about fucking her on her desk had made her practically gush. How was he finding kinks of hers that even she didn't even know she had? And with the whole weekend to spend together, what other sinful sides of her was he going to reveal? Impulsively she went to her closet and started rummaging.

When the buzzer finally rang, she practically sprang to the intercom, so desperate was she for him to arrive.

"Hello? Who is it?" she asked.

"Call me but love and I'll be new baptized," came the reply in a voice designed to ruin her underwear.

Emily pressed the button to let him in and undid the deadbolt on her door, opening it slightly. She could hear him taking the steps two at a time, no doubt easy to do with his long legs, and moments later he had slipped through her door, closing and locking it behind him.

"I thought you didn't like Romeo," she teased him as he dropped his bag and immediately took her into his arms.

"I'm coming around to him," he grinned down at her. "I am starting to understand how love can drive a fellow to do all sorts of daft things."

"Oh really?" she asked, ignoring the way the word "love" had sent flutters in her chest. "Such as what, exactly?"

"Such as sitting through an exceedingly tedious hour of detention," he grumbled.

"That is not my fault!" she rebuked him. "You have the lovely Kate to blame for that indignity."

"Lovely as a mushroom and twice as poisonous," he snarked. "Perhaps it was not your fault I was there, but it was only the knowledge that it would cause you distress that kept me from planting him a facer."

"Was it that bad?" she asked, hand moving to play with a stray curl that fell down over his ear. Tom leaned into her touch like a cat, practically purring.

"He has designs on you, Emily, and I don't think he will easily take no for an answer," he told her seriously. "He warned me to stay away."

"You don't think he suspects?"

"Only that you like me more than him, and that could be said about the majority of the population."

"That I like them more than him, or less than you?"

"Both, obviously," he grinned. "Now, do you suppose you could stop interrogating me for a moment so that I can kiss you? It has been a long day."

"Says the boy who never stops talking!"

"Man, not boy," he growled.

"Prove it," she said daringly.

Tom didn't need to be asked twice. His mouth descended on hers, kissing her with a pent up passion that had been building all day. He was greedy for the taste of her, pushing his tongue into her mouth and exploring its depths. It was long minutes before either of them came up for air, so lost in the kiss were they. When he finally raised his head from hers, Tom was rubbing his big hand up and down her back, panting.

"Wait a moment," he said, eyes sparkling, "this isn't your school outfit. What are you wearing my darling?"

Emily blushed as Tom pulled away and for the first time and looked at her in full. She had on a white satin robe, belted at the waist to keep it closed, with sheer sleeves that came down to her wrists. Her bare legs were visible from mid thigh down, and she wore a pair of black kitten heels, the tallest pair she owned.

"Well well," he smiled in obvious appreciation. "Isn't this a lovely surprise. You look like a virgin sacrifice about to be offered up to some ravenous pagan god!"

"You're not far off," she laughed nervously. "I bought it for a show I was in last year. I played the nice girl who gets murdered in act two."

"I would have been in the audience every night, front row," he remarked, circling around her to get the complete picture. "And what does my innocent offering have underneath this alluring confection, hmm?"

Tom took a step towards her and reached out to take the satin cord in his hand. Biting his lower lip in anticipation, he slowly untied the sash and drew it out of its loops.

"I'll just hold onto this for later," he remarked with a wicked look, draping it around his neck.

The robe now fell open down Emily's front, to reveal the lacy blue bra and panty set she wore underneath. It had been given to her as a gift when she was a bride's maid in her cousin's wedding, and was far more racy than the serviceable cotton she usually wore. The low hipped panties were almost entirely sheer lace, and the cups of the bra pushed her breasts up and out, so that her nipples partially escaped the scalloped edges.

"You said you liked blue," she remarked nervously.

Tom looked at her, for a moment, speechless, eyes roaming up and down her body. His hands came to her shoulders and with an almost reverent movement slid the satin robe off her skin to pool at her feet. His hands ran down her arms and he licked his lips as she shivered. Taking one last look into her eyes, he dropped to his knees and buried his face in her breasts, sucking and licking like a man possessed. 

Emily ran her hands through his curls, overwhelmed by the hunger with which he attacked her. One of his hands cupped her breast, while the other encircled her to grab her all but naked ass, massaging it in time with his mouth. All of the nerves and embarrassment she had felt when putting on the sexy lingerie flew out the door, driven by his ardent reaction.

"I am completely undone," he said when he finally surrendered her nipple, red and swollen from his mouth. "And completely unworthy of such a vision."

"I hoped you'd like it," she said shyly, rolling her eyes internally at herself.

"Oh, I more than like it," he grinned rakishly.

Rising unsteadily to his feet, he lifted her effortlessly, causing her to shriek and wrap her arms around his neck. Tom carried her over to her bed, still mussed from this morning since she had not thought to use her time before to make up the covers, and dropped her onto it from high enough that she bounced.

"Now," he smiled a wolfish smile at her, "as the god come to collect his tribute, I must decide what to do with you. And I have oh so many ideas!"

"Such as?" she asked.

"You'll see. First, put your hands over your head for me love."

Emily swallowed but did as he instructed, bringing her arms up over her head. Tom, still fully clothed, knelt next to her on the bed. He picked up each arm and gently kissed her wrists at the pulse point before bringing them together in one of his large hands. With his other hand he took the satin belt from around his neck and wrapped it several times around her joined wrists, before tying it securely and dropping her hands back down onto the pillow.

"Not too tight?" he asked her.

Emily shook her head mutely, her pulse beating rapidly as his smile widened. Tom ran his eyes up and down her body once more, hand rubbing over the huge bulge in his jeans, before turning away from her and crossing back to the kitchen.

"Where are you going?" she asked anxiously.

"Sacrifices do not question their gods," he told her in a lofty tone.

She heard the door to the refrigerator open and close, and a brief clinking noise, and then Tom was back, a glass in his hand. Emily eyed it suspiciously, certain she knew what was coming. She was not disappointed. Tom reached into the glass and pulled out an ice cube, an evil look spreading across his face.

"You look warm to me, dear," he told her. 

He held the ice over her, letting it slowly drip down first onto the valley between her breasts, and then downward to fall into her navel. Emily watched the water form each bead and then drop as if hypnotized, still crying out in shock each time the cold liquid met her skin. Tom smiled as her body jumped on the bed, enjoying how her breasts bounced and skin shivered. After dripping a path down her, he lowered his hand and dragged the ice over one nipple, watching it pucker up even more as Emily gasped and tried to pull away from the cold.

"Now now," he scolded her, "sacrifices are not allowed to run away. You don't want your village's crops to be poor this year."

"Tom," she whined, as he brought to cube to her other nipple.

"Hush," he ordered, and lowered his mouth to suckle on one breast with his hot mouth while pressing the ice into the other.

Emily closed her eyes and gave over to the sensations he was causing. After switching sides with the ice cube and his mouth, he then dragged a long stripe down her side, following the ice with wet, sloppy kisses, before crossing over just above the top of her panties, eliciting a particularly loud gasp by Emily as she bucked up off of the bed. Tom rose up to look at her, eyes meeting hers, as the hand with the ice made its way, as she had been sure it would, under the lace of her undies and found her clit, causing her to squeak as he circled her sensitive nub. Finally, he brought it lower still and slid the remains inside her, long fingers pushing the almost melted ice into her hot pussy.

"You are so gorgeous," he told her as she panted on the bed, thrashing a bit with her hands still above her. "So tell me, sacrifice, what are you willing to do for your god?"

"Anything," she gasped, meaning it in that moment.

Emily was beyond worked up by lust, and his deliciously playful nature was only feeding her need for him. She wanted to prove herself worthy of his attention, of the ardor he poured out to her.

"Such a good answer," he said, pulling his shirt up and over his head. "I love a willing, eager offering."

Emily looked at him where he stood, finally naked, before her. In that moment she could almost believe he was some god out of mythology come to life. He certainly looked like the classical statues she had seen at the museums on her semester abroad: tall, fit, handsome, with his wealth of curly hair and his proud standing cock. Her shyness melted like the ice inside of her and she gave him her best come hither smile.

"Then take me, my god," she said, bringing up her knees and opening her legs wide. "Use me as you will to slake your divine lust. Let me earn your benevolence for my people. I live only to serve you."

An actual growl came out of Tom's chest, and he leapt onto the bed, settling himself between her welcoming legs. His cock head pressed urgently against her entrance, and with a loud grunt he thrust, impaling her. His mouth came to her neck and he bit and sucked a bit wildly as he rutted into her. Emily partially wished her hands were free so that she could touch him, but there was something about being so completely at his mercy that added to her arousal.

"You are mine," he growled in her ear. "You hear me, love? You have given yourself to me, and I am a jealous god. This hot, wet cunt is mine to use and mine alone."

"Yes," she moaned, meeting his thrusts as best she could. "Yes, I belong to you."

"You do, and I will use you until you are sore and tired and still want more of you. And you will happily give it to me."

"Take me, fuck me, use me," Emily pleaded with him. "Make me cum and cum in me."

"Oh, I'll cum in you alright. Over and over until there is no room left in your pretty pussy for more. But a benevolent god lets his worshipers cum first. And I intend to be very, very good to you my little darling. So cum for me. Let me feel you flutter all around my cock. Choke me with your cunt, love."

His words had the intended effect, driving Emily over the edge and making her cum hard, screaming out as she did so. Tom rode her through it before pulling out of her briefly, flipping her over and pulling up her hips so that she was on her knees. Barely missing a beat, he lined himself up with her and pushed his way back inside, groaning as her wet walls sucked him in. Without her hands free to support her, Emily's face lay against the pillow, and Tom's hand came down to circle the back of her neck. The other hand was at her hip, surely marking it with his grip as he held her steady so that he could hammer into her over and over. Emily surprised both of them by cumming again, before she had even recovered from the first orgasm. Her clamping down around him was all that was needed to bring Tom to the edge and send him flying over it, shooting rope upon rope of cum deep into her.

When their breathing had at last returned to normal, Tom helped Emily to roll back over and lovingly untied her hands. Once again he kissed both of her wrists, before pulling her to him and gently but deeply kissing her mouth as well.

"That was unexpected," she said, shy again.

"You inspire me," he told her, face happy and open. "I didn't go to far, did I?"

"Not at all," she assured him. "I've... I've never done that sort of thing before."

"What, role play?" he asked, playing with her hair. "Or being tied up? Or the ice cube?"

"Any of it, really," she said with a rueful laugh. "I'm afraid my sex life up until now has been painfully vanilla."

"There's nothing wrong with vanilla," he told her. "It's a lovely flavor that I enjoy thoroughly. But if you are open to... trying different flavors... well, then I would be happy to introduce you to as many as you would like to sample. I'm sure many of them would be new to me as well. The god bit, for instance."

"I thought that was just your natural self image," she teased.

"Quiet you!" he said, tickling her sides. "Although maybe you're right, I am born to play a god. Which one, do you think? Apollo? Hades? Osiris? Loki?"

"All of them," she smiled at him. "You are my entire pantheon."

"And you are my goddess. I mean it, Emily, I worship you."

"I don't see why," she said candidly, "but I am certainly not about to stop you."

"You couldn't if you wanted to. Even if I had to worship you from afar, I would remain your devoted supplicant."

"You are ridiculous."

"And you are beautiful. I mean it Emily, I am entirely besotted by you."

Emily smiled at him as she coiled a ringlet around her finger. He was the beautiful one, she thought. A god indeed. 

"You can stay for the weekend?" she asked, pulse racing at the idea of having him alone for all that time.

"Just try to get rid of me," he grinned, stretching like a cat in a ray of sunlight.

"You know, I don't think I will."

"I knew you were a smart woman! Now, I don't know about you, but I could use a rest before cooking you dinner."

"I will be cooking dinner, thank you very much," she said, rising up on one elbow to glare at him.

"Oh really? To what do I owe this honor?"

"Well, I can't have you thinking all I'm good for is sex!"

"That would never have crossed my mind," Tom told her seriously. "Emily, look at me. We could keep all of our clothes on for the next three days, and I would still cherish every moment I spent with you. I want you for you, not just for sex."

"Not _just_ for sex?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Well, I am a red blooded male," he replied with a laugh. "If sex with you is on the table, I certainly am not going to say no."

"Sex on the table you say?" she asked archly, blushing at her nerve.

"I've created a monster!" he gasped in mock horror. "Now come here and snuggle with me. I want to feel you against me."

Emily was only too happy to comply, cuddling up against him. That was the word, she thought. Happy. She was happy.


	7. Bliss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The weekend of bliss continues, until Emily makes an unfortunate discovery.

The weekend together was bliss. Emily and Tom were swept up in a wave of giddy, excited emotion as they got to spend extended time enjoying each other.

Tom was funny, quick, passionate, all those things that Emily hadn't even realized she had been so sorely missing in her life. He kept her constantly entertained as she whipped up dinner for them, regaling her with outrageously unbelievable stories from his days in English public school outside of London. What a difference it must be for him, she realized, to have to come here and adapt to life in their small town school.

Over dinner it was Emily's turn, as he drew out tales of her college years and some of the more silly exploits from her theater days. She was shy at first, but he seemed genuinely interested in her life, and she was soon babbling on as freely as he did. Tom soaked up her stories as eagerly as he ate the chicken marsala she had prepared, his apatite for both seemingly endless. She had to surprises a hint of jealousy as he ate his third helping, sopping up the left over sauce with a hunk of bread. It was so unfair that he could eat so much and maintain his slim and trim physique. Her grumpy thoughts flew quickly out of her head after dinner, however.

"Now," he said, eyebrows waggling as he cleared the plates, "I believe someone mentioned something about sex on the table."

Before she entirely knew what was happening he had lifted her easily up and deposited her where moments before their dinner had sat. Grinning wickedly, Tom pushed her legs open and lustily went to work on his desert, not stopping until she had cum twice from his skillful tongue.

From there it was only natural that they tumbled back into bed, where he finally achieved his stated intention of that morning and made love to her slowly, drawing out the experience with long, deep thrusts as his blue eyes stared intently into hers. The emotion she saw in the depths of those eyes scared Emily a bit, all the more so because she knew a matching light must be glowing in her own.

"I want you to know how special you are," he told her, voice serious, as they lay spooned together afterwards. "No matter what the future holds, please believe that this is more than just a lark for me."

"I do," she told him, languorous in the aftermath of sex. "Tom, is everything alright?"

"Every thing is fine, darling," he assured her, quick smile chasing away the worried look that had briefly clouded his brow. "Now, let's get some rest."

They slept late the next morning, having woken up during the night to sleepily grope at each other once more. Neither could remember who had started it, they simply found themselves awake and in a tangle of limbs. He had slid easily inside of her, her leg hitched up over his as he urgently rutted into her. It was as if their bodies were unable to go more than a few hours without interlocking. Emily had fallen asleep with him still inside her, his voice murmuring nonsense into her hair.

A rainy Saturday seemed perfect to them both, and they gladly stayed cuddled up indoors. Tom, upon finding out that Emily had never seen The Jungle Book, became insistent that they rectify such a horrible oversight at once. The next thing she knew they were curled up on the couch while he ordered it from demand, sharing a bowl of popcorn as Tom mouthed the lines along with all the characters. She could not decide whether her favorite part was the dance he jumped off the couch to do to "The Bear Necessities," complete with adorable butt wiggles, or the way he leaned down and purr/growled Sheer Kahn's "How delightful" into her ear in a voice that made her insides flutter. She was surprisingly moved by the movie itself, wiping a tear from her eye at the end. Her embarrassment ended when she glanced over and saw water unabashedly making tracks down Tom's face.

"It's a perfect movie," he said, giving her a half smile. "I can't wait until I can show it to my kids one day."

It was comments like that, she was coming to realize, that so totally undid her. Yes, he was lightning in a bottle, handsome and smart, but it was his huge, soft heart that was the real prize to this man. The way he didn't seem to care if someone laughed at him, or at least was not going to let it stop him from owning his emotions. Emily had never known any other male his age who was so open to his own feelings.

She had jumped on him at that point, kissing him senseless until they fell off the couch in their enthusiasm. It was from that new angle that Tom noticed the scrabble game on the bottom shelf of her entertainment center. His eyes had lit up and an evil look crossed his mobile face.

"You play?" he asked, challenge in his voice.

"Yes," she drew out the word. "I assume you do as well?"

"I do," he said, grabbing it and quickly setting up the board. "Where's your dictionary?"

"Why?"

"For challenges."

"Oh, do we need one?"

"Of course!"

"You take this seriously, don't you?" she laughed, grabbing her OED from a pile in the corner.

"Oh, darling, you are about to find out how the game is meant to be played!" he boasted.

"Someone sounds confident," she slapped the dictionary down next to the game board. "Want to make it interesting?"

"What did you have in mind?" he asked eagerly.

Emily thought for a moment. From the way he talked, and what she knew of his brain, Tom was obviously good at the game. Still, she had rarely been beaten in the late night games she and her roommates had played in school. She searched her mind for stakes that would be fun for her if she won, but not too horrible if she lost.

"I know," he said, naturally jumping heedlessly to an idea, "loser has to do whatever the winner wants."

"That's rather vague," she hedged. 

"Scared you're going to lose?"

"No, scared I will run mad with power after I win!" she smirked. "Better set some limitations on me."

"Oh, now who's cocky! Very well, loser does the winner's bidding for the next five hours."

"Two," she countered, more for the sake of arguing than any other reason.

"Three" he compromised.

"Three, but no going outside of the apartment, including phone calls."

"Of course not!" he quickly agreed. "Trust me, I am not going to want to share you with anyone!"

It was a long, hotly contested game. Tom and Emily both had competitive streaks. Once they realized how evenly matched they were, they both took the game deadly serious. The dictionary was put to good use, and heated arguments were had over English (the original tongue, after all!) and American (where they actually were playing at that moment!) spellings. They finally agreed that they could each use their native dialect, though both pouted about it a bit. In the end, a well placed J allowed Emily to use her last tiles, leaving Tom with an X still unplayed and winning her the game by two meager points.

Somewhat to her surprise, Tom took her win in good grace, stating that it only proved that she was the perfect woman, and his taste was impeccable. Still, he vowed to beat her in a rematch to be played at a later date. Emily beamed, glad that her brain had not failed her. Her love of words was a defining character trait, something that made her love both teaching English and reading drama. To have found someone with a similar felicity with language, and then to have narrowly beaten him, had her floating.

"Well, my lovely victor," he said once the game had been packed away, "here sit I, your spoils. What would you have me do?"

Emily had not thought that far ahead. In a way it would have been much easier to let him win! She was sure she would have enjoyed whatever he came up with for them. After all, she had been intensely aroused when he took control previously. Still, perhaps it was time she became a bit more assertive. She felt comfortable with Tom. He was open and caring; her heart was safe with him, as well as her pride. Swallowing the nerves that fluttered in her stomach, she looked him up and down in what she hoped was a daring manner and smiled.

"Take off your shorts," she ordered, voice husky.

Tom's face split into a smile as he made quick work of his boxer shorts, standing before her naked, cock already starting to harden as she looked watched.

"As you command," he grinned.

"My Queen," she informed him. "You will address me as My Queen. Is that clear?"

"Yes, My Queen," he said, eyes heating.

"Excellent, lie down on the carpet."

Emily fought down the insecurity, amazed that this golden Adonis was doing all of this at her command. Eyes only leaving his for a second, she slowly pulled of the tshirt and panties she had been dressed in and tossed them to the side. By this point, he was hard as a rock and pointing straight up to the ceiling. Emily knelt down beside him and ran her hands up his thighs, fingernails grazing his skin. Tom drew in a shuddering breath and his cock bobbed as she neared it but did not quite touch.

"You will lie there, servant, while I take my pleasure from you," she told him, bringing her hand to cup his balls. "You will allow me to do so, not cumming until after I have reached my own climax. Is that clear?"

"Yes, My Queen," his eyes were completely dilated and his breathing was shallow. 

Emily smiled at him, and made a long swipe with her tongue up his shaft before taking it in her mouth and sucking long and hard. Tom groaned and lifted his hips up to press further into her mouth, but Emily lifted off of him and narrowed her eyes.

"I said I would take my pleasure from you. You are not to move. Not unless I say you can."

"Sorry, My Queen," his voice rasped.

"Good servant," she smiled, falling more into the role.

Rising to her knees again, Emily straddled him. She took his hard cock in hand and rubbed it back and forth through her slick, making sure to hit her clit with it as she did. Tom bit his lower lip and seemed to be expending all of his energy to stay stock still. Emily felt a surge of power watching him, and slowly lowered herself down onto him, until he was fully seated within her. Tom let out a deep groan, his eyes rolling back and his nails digging into the carpet.

"You feel excellent, servant," she told him, beginning to move up and down on him. "You are just what I needed."

"Yes, My Queen," he moaned, opening his eyes to watch her ride him. "Use my cock for your pleasure. Let me be a toy for you satisfy yourself with."

"You are a very, very good toy," she said, stifling a giggle. "So nice and big, filling me up."

"Use me to make you cum," he begged, panting as he held himself back. "Oh god, fuck yes!"

Emily sped up her pace, sliding her clit back and forth over his coarse hair as she bounced on him. His eyes looked wild, as if he were dying to be a more active participant, but he held himself back, obeying her command.

"Do you want to touch me, servant?" she asked him lips coming down to kiss and suck on his collar bone.

"Yes My Queen," he whimpered, sucking in air through his teeth as she nipped at him. "Please, let me touch you."

"Not yet," she whispered in his ear, causing him to moan again. 

Emily sat up and smiled at his desperate face. With one hand she began playing with her breasts, watching his eyes devour them as she pinched her nipples and squeezed her own flesh. Her other hand slid down behind her to fondle his balls, eliciting a gasp from him. 

"Please, My Queen," he begged again. "Please, I need to touch you. I'll make you feel so good, I promise."

"You cock already makes me feel good," she shrugged.

"Better! I'll make you feel better!" he gasped.

Emily pretended to consider it while he pleaded with his eyes.

"Oh, very well," she said at last, desperate herself to feel his hands on her, "but you will not cum until I have done so."

"No My Queen. Thank you, My Queen!"

His hands were everywhere, sliding down her back, cupping her ass, on her hip to help her move, and gripping her hair. His mouth as well ransacked her body, latching on to first her neck and then her breast, ravenous for the taste of her. Emily laughed wildly, exulting in the taste of power. She would have never thought she would get off on being in control, but having this beautiful man begging for her was a glorious.

"Cum for me, My Queen," he was begging now. "Cum on my cock. Grant me the favour of your pleasure. Let me give that ultimate satisfaction."

His hand was on her clit now, rubbing furiously. Emily threw her head back and came, crying out his name as she did. Tom growled low in his chest, gripping her vise like in his arms and rolling them over so that she was beneath him. With feral snarls he began pounding into her, making her scream again with every thrust. His mouth found hers and seared it with kisses, drowning in her. Her back felt raw from the carpet, but she didn't care. The whole world was only Tom fucking deep into her until came with shout of profanity, taking her with him.

"That was unexpected," he said some time later, as they lay next to each other on the floor.

"For me too," she admitted. "I didn't know I could do that. Or that I would like it."

"Well, once again, I am glad you decided to experiment with me," he smiled at her, kissing a lock of her hair.

"So am I," she snuggled into him. "I could only do something like that with you, Tom. I trust you."

She had her eyes closed, so she did not see the look of anguish that flashed across his face.

***

"I'll only be gone for a an hour, hour and a half at most," Tom assured her again as he kissed her at the door.

"Tom, it's fine," she smiled at him. "You are not a prisoner you know!"

"Untrue," he said dramatically. "I am a prisoner of your beauty. You have bewitched me, body and soul."

"Out," she insisted, rolling her eyes. "Now! I can not stand such cliches."

"I'll be back soon, love."

It was Sunday morning, and Tom was making a quick trip to run an errand. As far as Emily was concerned, he was running home to feed non-existent the family cat. In reality, Tom had seized a moment while she was in the bathroom to check his messages a found one from his manager who had flown over to check on him. He was going to meet the man now. It was time to end the charade. He would tell Luke that he had learned all he could from this American high school experience. It was time to be himself again.

Once that was done, he would come back and confess everything to Emily. His real name, his age, his occupation, everything. She had a right to know who she was sleeping with, and who was very quickly falling in love with her. He no longer doubted he was falling in love. It was fast, but Tom's feeling had always been that way. When he fell, he fell hard and fast, though not often. Hopefully she would forgive him once she saw that the change in his perceived circumstances was really all for the better. They could be together without all the sneaking about. All though, to be honest, there was something exciting about that part. Still, on the whole he would breath easier knowing that it was all out in the open.

Emily was blissfully unaware of all of this. She was achy, sore from so much more physical activity than she was use to, and perfectly happy to wrap herself in her robe and settle down with a cup of tea on her couch to wait for him to come home, particularly as he was bringing home take out from her favorite restaurant.

She smiled as she realized that she was thinking of this as his home. Until a few days ago she barely thought of it as hers. It felt so much more comfy and complete with his large presence in it.

Flipping on the tv she looked at her DVR queue. She really had been falling behind in her class prep. She should be grading papers at the moment, but she knew her brain would not be focusing enough do them justice. Instead, she scrolled down the list and selected Nicholas Nickleby. It was not as though she hadn't read the book multiple times, after all. She just needed a little refresher.

She dozed peaceably on and off as the movie played out, half watching it, half replaying the last few days in her mind with a dopey smile plastered on her face. It was not until the scene in the bawdy house when her empty teacup slipped out of her hand and she sat up straight on her sofa. One of Sir Mulberry Hawks friends. The blond with the whore on his laugh giggling. He was the spitting image of Tom. Emily rubbed her eyes, thinking her mind was playing tricks on her. He looked a bit like him, yes, but his face was plumper, and his teeth were wrong. She must be seeing him everywhere now!

But then it was a few scenes later and she could no longer delude herself. The way he stood, moved, held himself, _breathed_ \- all of them were Tom! And then he spoke. Just one line, but it erased all doubt from her mind. Grabbing for the remote, she fast forwarded to the end and read the credits. There was no Tom Martinsson listed in the credits, but there were three other Toms. Tom Hollander she knew from his stage career. That left Tom Ellis and Tom Hiddleston. Hiddleston was credited as a Lord. 

Running over to her computer, Emily turned it on and waited impatiently for it to log itself on to the internet. Once it had she quickly typed "Tom Hiddleston" into the search engine and held her breath, hoping against hope that the listing returned would be anyone but the man she was quickly losing her heart to. 

There it was:

"Hiddleston has appeared in Stephen Whittaker's adaptation of Nicholas Nickleby for ITV, the BBC/HBO co-production Conspiracy, and as Randolph Churchill, the son of Winston Churchill, in the BBC/HBO drama The Gathering Storm. Upon graduating from RADA, Hiddleston was cast in his first film role, playing Oakley in Joanna Hogg's first feature film, Unrelate. Casting director, Lucy Bevan, who cast him in the film said "there was just a fantastic confidence about him". Hiddleston had leading roles in Declan Donnellan's company Cheek by Jowl's productions The Changeling, and Cymbeline. For the latter he won the Laurence Olivier Award for Best Newcomer in a Play. 

To add the final, finishing blow, there was a picture of Tom, her Tom, smiling in a headshot beside the entry.

Emily sat in daze, trying to make sense of the information. Tom Hiddleston. Graduate of RADA! Olivier Award Winner! Dear God, of course he was the best student in her Shakespeare class, he had performed with the RSC! Emily didn't know whether to laugh, cry, or throw something. He was an actor. A professional actor. What the hell was he doing in her class? And his birthdate - 1981? The fucker was 23 years old!

He had lied to her. Was this all just a game to him? Was she a game? Some quaint little provincial nobody he could use to inflate his ego? And why was he even here? It made no _sense_! Emily paced randomly around her apartment, trying to focus her brain, but it didn't work. She was in shock. Nothing made sense.

When the buzzer to her apartment rang, Emily jumped a foot in the air. Oh god, he was back! What was she going to say? Or do? Briefly she thought of opening the window and screaming at him, busy street be damned. Only a lifetime of polite manners kept her from doing so. Instead, she went to her door and mechanically buzzed him in. What choice did she have, she thought? None, if she wanted answers. She unlocked her dead bolt and sat down on one of the kitchen stools, waiting for him to make his way up the stairs. Why did it seem to take him so long, when normally he bounded up them like a gazelle? Had he had enough of her so that she no longer drew him on? Had he really had to run home as he said, or had it just been excuse to leave? Was he sick of her and ready to call the whole charade to an end? 

The door opened and she held her breath.

"Hello Em," Jim Howard said, stepping into the room and swaying a little with intoxication. "We have to talk. I know whose boots those were by your door the other night."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I fudged the years and dates a bit. I realize that by the time Tom had graduate from RADA and had a few credits he was 26 not 23, but go with it! It's fiction. :-) (and like Tom, math is not my friend).
> 
> So what do you think? Does Emily forgive him? What does Mr. Howard Want? How much trouble is Tom in?


	8. Heartbreak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim arrives with threats. Will Tom get back in time?

Emily stared for a moment in stunned disbelief at the man swaying slightly in her doorway. Jim Howard had obviously had more than a couple of beers. His lime green shirt was rumpled and untucked from his baggy jeans. The varsity jacket he wore, emblazoned with "Coach H" across the chest, was wet and stained with something. He looked at her with cunning eyes that tried to fake concern.

"Not the man you were expecting, huh?" he asked with a little laugh.

"Jim, what are you doing here?" Emily asked, pulling her robe together and rising to her feet.

"I told you. We need to talk."

"Whatever this is about, it will have to wait until school tomorrow," she said, shifting from one foot to the other nervously while his eyes scanned the room and then made their slow way up her bare legs before finding her eyes. "I'm afraid I'm not feeling very well."

"That so?" he asked, stepping farther into the room, to her consternation. "What, the little fucker wear you out? I wouldn't have thought he had it in him."

"I don't know what you're talking about, but I'd like you to leave," she said coldly, trying to keep her face calm. 

Oh god, he couldn't know! Silently she prayed that it was just a suspicion on his part. For all of Tom's derision, Jim wasn't a stupid man. And she and Tom had not exactly been careful. The pieces were all there if he was observant enough to put them together. It seemed her stupidity knew no bounds.

"You'd like that, would you?" Jim asked, leaning against the back of the sofa. "What, afraid your little boy toy is going to come back and find me here? Wouldn't like that much, would he?"

"Jim, you're drunk," she tried to laugh off his insinuation. "There's no one else coming. In fact, I've been alone all weekend."

"Don't lie, Em. For one thing, you suck at it. And for another, I saw him."

"What?" she gasped in horror.

"I was across the street on McGee's when the little punk ass came out of the building."

"Oh, that!" she forced another laugh. "He was just dropping something off. For the audition project we're working on."

"Must be a love scene from the way he was shoving his tongue down your throat," he barked. "You know, for a smart woman, you are really fucking stupid. I sat there for over an hour, trying to decide what to do about it. By all rights, I should call principal Richmond and report you."

"Jim, listen," she tried to marshal her thoughts.

"Oh, don't worry, I didn't. You'd already be fired if I had."

"Thank you."

"I know how it must be. You're lonely, here all by yourself. I get that, Em."

Emily bit her tongue to keep from screaming at his condescension and simply nodded her head once. Let the man think what he wanted, if it kept him quiet and got him out of her apartment sooner.

"What I don't understand," he continued, "is why the hell you would take up with that little shit. Now, I'm not overly proud or egotistical. If you had decided to start seeing some other man, say someone else on staff, or from around town, I would understand. Or even a lady, if that's your thing. I can be open minded. I mean, your loss, but in a way it would be kind of hot. Hell, I would even understand if you took a shine to one of my athletes. You're still young, and I know girls go all starry eyed at a letter jacket. But that little smug son of a bitch? Well, that's asking an awful lot of me, to take that."

"It has nothing to do with you," she told him coldly.

"Oh, I think you know it does," he smiled with out humor. "I made it pretty obvious I was interested."

"I'm sorry Jim, I just don't think of you that way," she tried for honesty.

"Well, maybe you would if you hadn't had your head turned by all that Shakespeare nonsense. No, you didn't give me a chance. But that's about to change."

"I really don't see that happening."

"Oh, don't you? Well, open your eyes, cuz it's about to. You are going to get all dolled up in your best dress, put on some makeup, and come out to dinner with me. We are going to talk, and laugh, and have all the fun a date implies. All the fun."

"I believe I asked you to leave," her voice was hard now, as fear and revulsion were warring inside of her. "Please do so, or I will call the police."

"Go ahead," he said magnanimously, waving towards her phone. "I would love to talk to them. Let them know about the local school teacher who's been banging one of her students. What do they call that? Statutory rape, isn't it?"

"Tom is legal," she said without thinking, hand freezing over the receiver.

"Oh, he might technically be over eighteen, but we both know how it will look. It would be a shame to lose such a great teacher, all because you had to get the police involved."

Emily stared at him blankly for a moment, and then out of nowhere burst out laughing. It was perfect, she thought. Perfect irony. Just moments ago she had been writhing internally about Tom really being an adult, and now it was going to be the thing that saved her. Her job, her reputation, and her future career, since there was no way she was about to give in to Jim Howard and his obviously less than pure intentions. If Tom was everything that he had claimed to be, she would have been well and truly screwed. She had no doubt that Jim would be vindictive enough to turn her in. In many ways, it would be horrible of him if he didn't. But because her lover had been deceiving her she was safe. She could claim that she had known the entire time that he was a grown up. Tom might just be using her for some twisted game, but she didn't think he was cruel enough to let her be fired for it.

"I don't think you realize just how much trouble you are in, Em," Jim glowered, crossing towards her. "I wouldn't laugh if I were you."

Emily only laughed harder, unable to stop and more than a little afraid that her laughter would turn to tears at any moment. Jim glared at her, face turning red. There was no way for him to know what she found so stupidly funny about the situation, and it seemed to his impaired wits that she was laughing at him. Added to the insult of the whole situation with Tom, it was too much for him to take.

"Shut up!" he seethed, grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her. "I am serious. You shut up and start getting ready for me, or I am calling the police. I said shut up, you stupid bitch!"

"Take your hands off the lady. NOW!" a very distinctive, accented voice demanded from the doorway.

Emily looked up to see Tom standing there, discarded roses scattered around his feet and murder in his ice blue eyes.

***

Luke had been annoyed and and none too pleased with him, but then Luke was often annoyed and none too pleased with him. Tom knew that he was hardly the easiest client to manage. He comforted himself with the knowledge that his scrapes came primarily from an excess of exuberance and a tendency to talk or act before he thought rather than from any real diva mentality. He had been compared to a golden retriever puppy on more than one occasion, and he had to admit that the comparison was not without merit. 

When his manager had been told that Tom wanted out of his background assignment early, his well honed antenna had perked up. Tom was not one to shirk a task once he had taken it on. His work ethic would normally have forced him to see it through, no matter how tedious it was. It had taken very little cross interrogation for Luke to pull the truth of the relationship out of him. For one thing, Tom was in the early throes of falling hard for a woman, and like all people in such a situation all he wanted to do was talk about Emily.

By the time they had finished their coffee, Luke had heard in nauseating detail what she looked like, how smart and well read she was, the way she cared about all of her students, the horrible maths teacher who hounded her steps, the way she liked her toast in the morning, and how her nose crinkled adorably when she slept. By the end of the rapturous account he was ready to agree to anything just to shut Tom up. 

The only consideration, as far as the beleaguered guardian of his image was concerned, was how to manage the roll out of the relationship. Tom needed to get out of that school as soon as humanly possible if he was serious about dating this woman, as he clearly seemed to be. Indeed, Luke had never seen his normally elusive client so well and truly caught. If the press got wind of the fact that Tom and this Emily woman had met and began seeing each other while he was posing as a student in her class... to say the optics would be bad was a colossal understatement. 

Tom was all too happy to leave the details in Luke's ever capable hands. He was sure that something could be done to keep the media away from the story. After all, it was not like he was a major star. Few people in the states had even heard of him! Yes, that would hopefully be changing - Luke had mentioned an audition for a production of Othello set to star Ewan McGregor at the National, and that was the sort of thing to draw the kind of attention he had dreamed of - but for now his low profile was a boon, to his love life if no where else.

He stopped at a flower market on the way back to Emily's flat and bought a bouquet of long stem roses. He had an apology to make, and a long delayed explanation, and he hoped that the flowers would help show his sincerity. On impulse, he also dropped into the antique store down the block. There was a locket in the window that looked Elizabethan, and couldn't help but picture it around Emily's slim throat as she recited Shakespeare. He had the jeweler put it in a long, slender box tied with a ribbon and tucked it into his inside jacket pocket. Tom had always believed that if you were going to do something you should do it right, and he loved the grand gesture.

By the time he reached her building his nerves had changed to excitement. The deception was almost over. He would confess it all to her, including the fact that he had well and truly fallen for her. He would get down on his knees if need be and lay his heart at her feet. She would be angry, of course. She had every right to be. She might even be hurt, which would crush him, but he would take everything she dished out at him. In the end, she had to see that important thing was that they could be together. He would no longer be in her class, no longer be a student.

Sure, there might be some raised eyebrows considering how they met, but that could be smoothed over. For all anyone else knew, she might have been in on the ruse all along. She should have been, he admitted to himself guiltily. If not from the very beginning, at least once he began to fall for her. He would make that up to her though. He would make up everything. He would do whatever it took to be with her. She was worth it all and more. 

He was surprised when he reached her building that the door was open. Someone had dropped a beer bottle at the entry way and the door had caught on it, keeping it from closing all the way. Tom pursed his lips and silently censured the neighbors. They needed to be more careful! Didn't they know the most beautiful, special woman in the world lived in the building?

As he mounted the stairs, he heard Emily's laughter peel out. Smiling, he wondered what she was watching. She had told him she intended to veg out in front of the tv while he was out. Whatever she had found, it must be good. Except, he started to realize, it didn't really sound like pleased laughter. There was a note of hysteria that he could pick out in it that had him rushing. He pushed open the door and froze on the spot.

The sight that met Tom's eyes made his vision turn red. Emily stood a few steps into the room, dressed in her white sacrificial robe and laughing manically. Looming over her like a great, hulking ape was Jim Howard. His hands, two meaty hams on the ends of his arms, were gripping her shoulders, and as Tom watched murderously he shook her so that her head snapped back and forth.

"I said shut up, you stupid bitch!" the maths teacher snarled at the woman Tom adored.

"Take your hands off the lady. NOW!" 

He hadn't felt the roses fall from his hands, and he didn't consciously take the two steps needed to grab Jim Howard by the arm, spin him around away from Emily, and punch him squarely in the side of his face, followed by upper cut from his other hand that sent the man sprawling to the floor.

"Tom!" Emily said, laughter dying as here saucer-like eyes moved from the laid out teacher to the panting Tom and back again.

"If you ever touch her again, I will fucking kill you!" he growled, standing over the fallen man. "Emily, darling, are you alright?"

He made to take Emily in his arms, but she shied away from him like a sacred animal. 

"You are going to regret that," Mr. Howard said, hand going to his jaw that was already turning colors. He staggered to his feet and spit blood out onto the floor. "Last chance, Em. Kick him out and come with me or your career is over."

"I will kill you," Tom said, with no exaggeration. In that moment he would gladly have faced a murder charge to end the bastard.

"Shut up, both of you!" Emily said sharply. "Jim, it might interest you to know that Tom is not a student."

"Oh, come on!" Howard jeered as Tom stared at her in shock.

"It's true. His name isn't even Martinsson. It's Hiddleston. Tom Hiddleston. He's an actor. An adult actor. In his twenties."

"You expect me to believe that?"

"I really don't care what you believe," she told him disdainfully. "But it happens to be the truth. Ask him yourself."

He had too much pride to ask, but his eyes flicked questioningly towards Tom.

"She's telling you the truth," Tom admitted, dread in every fiber of his body. "I'm 23. 24 in February. You can see my license if you don't believe me. I've been doing research for a film."

"And you knew? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Why would it be any of your business?" Emily asked dismissively. "There is nothing between us, and there never was. You are a coworker, and for a while I thought you might be a friend. Now, I just want you gone. From my house and from my life. Leave."

"You heard the lady," Tom said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I'm not scared of you," Jim said, none the less backing off. "You may not be a teen, but you're still a boy. You got in a cheap shot, that's all."

"Considering you were assaulting the woman I love, you are lucky to be conscious."

"I wasn't assaulting her."

"Enough!" Emily's voice was strained to the breaking point.

"Get. Out." Tom herded him towards the door with the force of his presence.

"I'll see you at school tomorrow, Em," Jim mumbled, as though he had not just threatened her.

Tom followed him to the door and shut it behind him. When he had locked it, he crossed to the window and watched the man shuffle out the door to the building and down the street.

"Is he gone?" Emily asked.

"He is," Tom assured her.

"Good. Then I would greatly appreciate it if you would kindly get the fuck out too."

Tom spun around to see her standing in the same spot. Her arms were wrapped around her body as though holding it together. In here eyes was a depth of pain that shattered him. He opened his mouth to say something - anything - to explain why he had done the things he had done. Emily raised one hand silently and stopped him from speaking. Guiltily, he hung his head and stared at the floor, willing her to speak.

"Thank you getting rid of Jim," she said in a voice devoid of all emotion. "I was legitimately scared there for a moment before you came in. He had been drinking, and I don't think his judgement was intact."

"Of course," he croaked out, voice hoarse. At the thought of what might have happened had he not arrived, his blood almost froze in his veins.

"I would appreciate it if, as soon as possible, you would drop my class," she went on as though he had not spoken. "I don't know what you are doing in it or why, but I value my teaching and would prefer not to have to resign."

"What? Why would you resign?"

"Will you do it?"

"You don't even have to ask. I've already dropped out of the school altogether. That's where I was just now, arranging it."

"With you cat?" she asked, confusing him for a moment until he remembered the excuse he had given her for leaving. "Thank you. I don't think there's really anything else we need to say to each other."

"What do you mean?" he exploded, trying and failing to keep his voice even. "Emily, I love you! I was coming back to tell you everything!"

"Of course you were," she said with a twist of her lips. 

"I was! I was going to confess it all. I promise!"

"I'm sure you do. You are an excellent actor, Tom. Completely underused in Nicholas Nickleby."

Ah, so that was it. She had watched the damn tv movie. He should have erased it when she was sleeping! No, a voice inside his head corrected, he should have told her the truth. That first night when he realized how special she was, he should have told her then and there. It would have spared him from seeing the dead look in her eyes and spared her... from him, he supposed.

"I wanted to tell you," he whispered, eyes welling up.

"But you didn't."

"No. I didn't."

"Leave."

"Emily -"

"Fine, I'll leave. Lock the door when you go."

Turning blindly she grabbed a coat from the back of the door and threw it on over her robe. Tom ran over and grabbed her, saying her name over and over, trying to calm her down. 

"Emily, stop! Stop love," he soothed her as tears fell down her face. "Stop, please. I'll go. I'm going. Just please, darling, sit down."

Defeated, he watched her slump down onto a chair, burring her face in her hands. He wanted to comfort her more than he had ever wanted anything in his life, but he knew he could not. He had said he would go, and he was a man of his word. Ignoring his own tears, he placed a kiss on the top of her head, feeling her shake as he did so.

"I love you, Emily," he told her, and inducing a new round of sobs in her. "Please, please believe that."

And leaving his heart behind him, Tom trudged down the stairs to the sound of her crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I may have crushed myself a bit with the end of this one. How can Tom possibly fix all of this mess?
> 
> Ps - I know Luke is technically his pr person not his manager. I took a bit of creative license.


	9. Letters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom uses an interesting tactic to woo Emily back again.

The Monday morning walk to school was the longest of Emily's life. With every step she took she was tempted to turn around and run the other way, hiding under her blankets and weeping rather than going on. Only a deep seated stubborn streak kept her from giving in to her fears and doing just that.

She needn't have worried. Tom was true to his word. There was no sign of him to be found in school. No infectious laugh ringing through the hallway, no tousled halo of blond hair floating above the shorter students amidst a throng of admirers, and no ice blue eyes seeking hers for a secret wink or speaking glance.

Emily told herself it was for the best. She hoped she would eventually believe it.

The other god-send was that Jim Howard seemed to have called in sick. A substitute was in his classroom when she got there, and never had she been so glad to see the old woman than she was that day. She assumed that it was his pride that kept him from walking into the building with a black eye and a swollen jaw, and took evil delight in the fact that Tom had so thoroughly trounced him.

Tom. There he was again. She could not go five minutes without calling him to mind. It was going to be a long day. Hell, it was going to be a long forever as far as she knew. How long would it take to get over the golden boy who had so completely won her heart?

Half a day was how long it took for the news of his exit to hit the school grapevine. Emily began hearing his name whispered during her fourth period class. By the time that class ended and she made her way to the staff lounge it was all anyone was talking about. Ada, Janis, and Mike were gossiping about it when she came in, a pathetic lunch of coffee and a banana in her hand.

"Well, anyone with eyes could have seen that that boy should be a movie star," Janis was opining. "It doesn't surprise me one bit."

"Oh, come on Janis," Mike laughed, skepticism showing, "he was handsome, sure, but there's no way you saw this coming!"

"I'm not saying that," Janis sniffed. "Obviously I didn't _know_ he was an actor. But if anyone in this school was destined for greatness it was Martinsson."

"Hiddleston," Mike corrected her. "Apparently that's his real name. You're awfully quiet, Emily. You were close with the boy, weren't you? Tutoring him after hours and all?"

"Not that close," she said with a half shrug. "He claimed to want help with an audition monologue, but that was obviously for show. We never actually worked on it. Just class."

The words were true enough as far they went, even if the meaning behind them was an all out lie.

"Still, he clearly preferred you," Ada said, giving her a probing look. "I heard all sorts of chatter about how he always flirted with you, volunteering to read romantic scenes with you. I was a little jealous, to tell the truth. I mean, and I can say it now that I know he's a genuine adult - what I wouldn't have given for a chance to sculpt a nude of that boy!"

"No wonder Howard hated him so much," Mike laughed good naturedly. "It seems it's not just the high school girls who had a thing for him."

Emily did her best to tune them out after that, and took to eating in her classroom. The days blended into each other, with no end of the day secret to make them stand out as special.

The kids in her drama class were all excited of course. The thought that they had read scenes with an honest to goodness actor, one who was going to be starring in a movie, made them practically giddy. Kate began recirculating the lie that the two of them had been involved, and no one dared to correct her. Emily was angry on his behalf, offended that anyone would believe he would fool around with a student, until she realized the implications of that thought.

It was that guilt that was the worst. Well, along with the loneliness. Even if he had been an adult, _she_ hadn't known that. She had thought him no different than Kate or Zack or Jamie, and she had slept with him anyway. She deserved all the pain she was feeling. Deserved more than that; to loose her job and never be hired again, even. More and more she slipped into a depression.

It was nine days after she had thrown him out of her apartment and her life that the first letter arrived. She grabbed her mail from the small slot inside the door and rifled through it on the way up the stairs as she always did, expecting nothing more than bills and solicitations. When she turned over an envelope addressed in an instantly recognizable hand, she felt as though she had been punched in the gut. Hands shaking, she opened the seal, afraid that if she didn't do it at once she would never find the courage, and unfolded a letter.

" _My Darling Emily_ ," it began in Tom's loopy mess of long hand, " _I know I have no right to write to you, having broken your trust in the most caddish way possible. I only hope that you will allow me the opportunity to once more take advantage of your goodness of heart and kindness of disposition, that I may try to explain why I orchestrated such a hurtful charade._

_"As you are patently aware now, I am an actor of both stage and screen. I take my profession very seriously, perhaps more so than it deserves, though I like to believe that you among all women will understand why. If I can peel away the layers of a character enough to expose the beating heart within, allowing my audience to sees even a piece of the truth of humanity in my portrayal, then I truly believe that I am contributing something to this shared experience we all are living. Pretentious as that sounds, it is my goal every time I assume a role, be it Iago or a soldier, or even Mr. Toad._

_"When I was cast as a student from the States, I knew I had my work cut out for me. I was educated, I blush to say my love, in the best schools in England: Eton, Cambridge, and RADA. My good fortune has been quite excessive, I know, though no teacher I encountered in all of my tutelage could hold a candle to you, my darling. In any case, I was woefully unprepared to know the struggle such a young man was going through. My director came up with the idea to have me pose in a small town school, and I admit I leapt at the chance._

_"Never in a million years would I have guessed that I would meet the woman of my dreams in such a situation._

_"I confess that in the beginning I flirted with you to amuse myself. You are quite breathtakingly beautiful, my sweet, and I was bored beyond belief. As the days went on, however, I began to uncover the woman underneath the starched blouses and pencil skirts. A woman with a mind that soared and a soul that sung. One who shared my passion for stage poetry, and did not back down from a challenge._

_"In short, my darling Emily, I fell in love with you._

_"I should have told you the moment our relation crossed over the line. Alas my love, I fear that it is a coward who worships you. I was afraid that if you learned the truth you would be angry, and I wanted to collect as many precious moments with you as I could before your warm eyes turned cold. My sin is great, I know. I do not deserve to be forgiven. Nonetheless, I place my heart at your feet in hope that you will take it up, take pity on me, and not stomp it beneath your shoe._

_"The film I am working on seized the opportunity afforded by my early matriculation to begin shooting. I am relocated to New York City to start principal photography. I know it is a mere two hours from you, and yet it feels the length of the world. Knowing I will not see you each day, hold you at night, is a weight on my soul that I know I have only myself to blame for._

_"I ask nothing of you, my dearest Emily, but that you allow me to write to you. I do not expect you to write back, although I live in hope that one day you will. The distance keeps us apart, but perhaps that need not be all bad. Perhaps it can give you time to heal and to trust me once more. Let me write to you, to tell you about myself - my real self - and try to win your friendship back if nothing else. It has been the most important of my life._

_"I do not flatter myself that I will ever hold you again, kiss your soft lips, feel you beneath me as you gasp in passion. I have too great a mark against me to hope for such grace. I would die to have it, but will not impose it on you. Just let me try to heal the hurt I have done, and I will be content._

_"If you cannot find it within you to accept my offer of friendship in the form of epistles, simply write me with one word. 'Stop' and I will cease. You are in control, my heart. I will bow to your wishes._

_"Please take good care of yourself, my Emily. I wish I could be their to tend to you myself. Be warry of the dread maths teacher. I know it is no longer my place, but I would ask you to not be alone around him._

_"Enough of that. I will end for now. Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night till it be morrow._

_"My heart is yours._

_All my love,_

_Tom._ "

Emily read the letter through, barley able to make out the words through the tears welling in her eyes. When she had finished, she collapsed onto the bed and read it through again, openly weeping this time. All of the pain and guilt she had been holding in came flooding out. In the end, she had to put the letter aside so that the deluge of her tears didn't permanently mar the ink composing the lines. By then she knew it by heart, but she still loved to see his strong hand scrawled out over the page.

She did not for a moment consider writing him to stop. Perhaps she should have. There was no future she could see for the two of them. Her trust had been shattered, along with her mental image of herself, by the situation. On top of that, he was away, filming a movie in the big city that she rarely went to. When this movie was ended, who knew where he would be? Jetting off to exotic countries? Treading the boards in London? His life was exciting and adventurous, and she was a little mouse of a school teacher from a small town. How could they hope to make a relationship work, even without their drama?

The letters came far more frequently than she had expected. While it was not every day, Tom was clearly grasping every spare moment he had to pour out his heart to her. He told her all about the filming process. She felt as though she knew his costars, so vividly did he depict them. Against her will, Emily would find herself laughing at ridiculous anecdotes, or groaning in commiseration at delays in the shooting. 

In the midst of all of these tales of misadventures and productivity, Tom made clear to he still hoped to win Emily back. He never missed an opportunity to praise her, calling her darling, his sweet, his dear, his love. He mentioned how he had suggested that one of the teachers should be young, smart, and sexy as an homage to her, though no one could possibly do her justice. He let slip that he had been making his costars groan with his continual referencing her, to the point where they teased him any time her name arose.

At the end of each letter he dropped all pretense, stating plainly that he loved her and would do anything to win her back. He insisted that he would wait, that the decision was entirely hers, but that he lived in hope that one day she would write him back, telling him she forgave him. Until that day, he would soldier on and try to deserve her.

Several times Emily found herself sitting down, trying to pen a reply to him. She wanted, desperately wanted, to do so. But each time, the fear would come crashing down and she would end up tearing the letter to shreds. 

About two months after the letters started, there was a longer than usual gap between arrivals. Emily began to think that he had given up on her, and a panic she had never felt gripped her. She had not realized the extent to which she had been living for his words.

When an envelope finally arrived, it was in an international envelope, and the return address was London, England. That was it, then. He was out of the country. All of the stories of his homecoming, complete with welcoming family, were a dagger to her. He still professed his love, but now an actual ocean separated them along with the sea of emotion. 

Their were two more letters, spread over a month and a half, and then nothing for three weeks. Depression returned. She had all but given up when a card shaped envelope, gilded on the edges, arrived in her box.

***

"Alright, out with it!" 

Emily looked up from the pile of papers she was grading to see Ada standing in her classroom door, arms crossed over her paint splattered apron and a determined look on her face.

"Out with what?" Emily asked, confusion genuine.

"It's been four months, Emily," the older woman said, shutting the door behind her as she walked in and sat at one of the student desks. The same desk, Emily couldn't help but note, that had once been Tom's.

"Sorry?"

"Four months that you have been moping around! Barely showing your face in the teacher's lounge, looking like someone stole your dog and kicked your kitten. This, from the girl who was such a spark of joy when she was hired that she even ignited passion for teaching in an old war horse like me!"

"I'm sorry," Emily mumbled.

"Don't be sorry, girl! Tell me what's wrong!"

"It's nothing."

"Emily, do you think I'm blind?" Ada asked with a sigh.

"No..."

"Or that I'm stupid?"

"Of course not!"

"Good," Ada snorted. "As I am neither. Four months ago, a certain long-legged boy with more looks than are good for anyone swaggered out of this school, and you have been a ghost ever since. It's not hard to put the pieces together."

Emily gaped at her, all color draining from her face. If Ada knew, or strongly suspected, was it then general knowledge? Was her shame a joke amongst the faculty, or a cause of scorn?

"Don't worry, hun," Ada said, as though reading her mind. "Most of the people around here are blind and stupid. No one else has any idea. Well, maybe Jim, but that's a whole other can of worms that I am not too keen on digging around in. So, you fell for the boy, huh?"

"You must despise me," Emily said, voice hardly above a whisper.

"So you're failing is that you're deaf," Ada shook her head. "How many times did you hear me rhapsodize about him? Hell, I was undressing him with my eyes every damn day!"

"But you never took it farther than that."

"No, I didn't. But then I am decades older than either one of you and was not given the opportunity. Who knows what I might have done if he had batted those long golden lashes at me and flashed a dimple."

"You wouldn't have slept with a student," Emily said doggedly.

"Is that what this is? That you feel guilty? Tell me something, Emily: would you ever even consider anything inappropriate with say... Jack Simmons, or Zach Lewis, or Dan Fielding? Would it even occur to you?"

"No," Emily said at once, repulsed by the very idea.

"Of course not. Because they are _children_. The Simmons boy is a hulking child, true, but even though he is big, he is still an adolescent. You can easily tell in a moment he is not an adult. Now, compare that to Tom. He has a baby face, and is all gangly, but there was something about him that flatly identified him as a _man._ You knew that, instinctively. That is why you let things play out the way you did."

"How can you be sure?"

"Because I know you," Ada said simply. "You are a good person, with a moral compass. Was it a stupid thing to do? Of course! It could have ended horribly for you, and thank god it didn't! But don't beat yourself up for listening to your intuition when it turned out to be right! Even if the boy did end up being a snake."

"What if he wasn't?" Emily asked carefully.

"I just assumed... he left, and you didn't seem happy about it... Emily, what did happen?"

Emily looked at her friend, chewing on her lip as she decided what to say. Ada already knew the worst; what harm could it do to let her in on the rest? In a rush it all came out. The clandestine affair, the trouble with Mr. Howard, seeing Tom on Nicholas Nickleby, their disastrous fallout, all of it. Ada sat there rapt as Emily spilled the whole sordid story.

"He really punched Jim?" Ada asked when she had finished, a huge grin spread over her face.

"Twice," Emily confirmed, answering smile on her own mouth. "Hard. Knocked him flat onto the ground."

"Oh, would I have loved to have seen that."

"I could have lived without it, honestly."

"Oh, hun, I don't know what to tell you," Ada shook her head. "I don't even know whether to feel jealous of you sorry for you. Both, I suppose. Ah, to be young again."

"He's been writing me letters," Emily confessed, face reddening. "Ever since he left."

"What does he say?" Ada's eyes were huge.

"Different things. How his day is going. About the filming. That he loves me and wants to be with me."

"Well what the hell are you doing here then?" Ada stood from the desk to stare at her.

"Ada..."

"Girl, if that young man wanted me, you can bet that nothing would keep me away!"

"He's in London," she muttered.

"Did something happen to all the airplanes?"

"No... In fact..."

"In fact what, Emily? Spill it? Give a woman something to live vicariously through!"

With a sigh, Emily dug through her bag and pulled out the card she had received the day before. It was an invitation to a movie premiere in New York City. Folded along with that was a train ticket, prepaid first class, and a small note:

" _I would not wish Any companion in the world but you,_  
 _Nor can imagination form a shape, Besides yourself, to like of._

 _Tom (with all thanks to Miranda in The Tempest)_ "

"Well," Ada smiled at her, "when shall we go shopping? You, my dear, are going to need a dress!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading and/or commenting! I love you all! 
> 
> There will probably be one more chapter, capping this at a round ten. :)


	10. A Night Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom has one shot to win Emily back, and he is not going to waste it!

To put it mildly, Tom was a wreck. 

He had finished dressing twenty minutes before, had his hair professionally moussed and styled, gotten his nails buffed just in case (in case of what he did not know), and now had nothing to occupy his time. He had given up occupying his mind days ago, but he needed to find something to do with his limbs before he wore a hole in the carpet or squandered every last bit of lip balm in the city of New York reapplying.

He had felt this way to some extent ever since the letter had arrived a week and a half before. When he saw the envelope with the return address from Emily's little town, he had been crushed. This was it, he was certain. She had gotten sick of his endless, pathetic attempts to win her back through sheer force of will and gift of written babble, and had sent to him to stop his harassing of her. It was not until he had realized that the hand writing on the envelope was too bold to be his sweet girl's that Tom had been able to summon the nerve to open it.

" _I will get her to NY_ ," the brusque reply had read. " _We will be staying at the Marriott Marquee in Midtown. The rest is up to you. Send a car to pick her up. If you have any sense between the two of you, that is the last I'll see of her for a while. Don't fuck this up Hiddleston, or whatever you are calling yourself these days. I have a wager on you two and I don't like loosing. I like seeing my friends cry even less. Fix it. Love and kisses, (in a depressingly maternal fashion of course), Ada Greene_."

Tom had predictably traveled from the depths of despair to the heights of excitement instantly. She was coming! He was going to see her again, touch her again, maybe even kiss her again! True, nothing was certain, and she might be coming just to put an end to things once and for all, but he had a chance. One chance to convince the woman he could not get out of his mind that they belonged together. He would have to find some way of thanking Ada, for he knew the art teacher would have had much to do with Emily's decision. He wondered if she would like his car? It seemed too small a thank you.

Of course, the reply meant that he had days to kill before any of this would actually happen. He was terrified every moment of every day that Emily would change her mind. Every time his phone rang he died a little inside, and when the mailman walked up to his front door, he wanted to throw things at the poor man to keep bad news away. His family began avoiding him, so testy did he get with them, and his manager declared that he didn't want to speak to him until they boarded the flight for New York.

The flight had been endless, as had the two days of small press events before the premier. Time was running so slowly that he wondered whether he had entered into some Twilight Zone reality where he was granted his heart's desire in theory but never would see it actually materialize. For the first time ever he paid attention during his fitting for the tuxedo he would wear to the event, surprising everyone in the room, and insisted that they bring in people to help him dress.

He looked at the results now once more in the hotel mirror. (He was staying at the Marquee, of course.) His curls had been combed out and styled in a more restrained fashion so that they were more a wavy than ringlets. An excellently fitted velvet tuxedo jacket stretched across his newly wider shoulders. He had been working out quite a bit in the last few months, both in anticipation of an exciting potential opportunity and as a way of expelling his restless energy, and he had packed on a bit of muscle. He hoped that the combined effect would be to show him off as more of the man he was and less of the boy he had posed as.

"God, could you sit still for two minutes together?" Luke asked in a beleaguered voice as Tom checked his cuff links once more.

"No," he answered succinctly. "They knew where to send the flowers, right?"

"If you wrote it on the card they did."

"You don't think they were too much? Or not enough?"

"I think the entire store you wanted to send her was too much," Luke snarked. "The two dozen white roses should be fine."

"Fine is not an option," Tom fretted. "They need to be perfect."

"The orchids for the friend were a nice touch. What put that in your mind?"

"Women like it when you do nice things for their friends. I have sisters, I know things. Besides, it is the least Ada deserves. Maybe I'll have a beer... loosen myself up..."

"NO!" Luke jumped out of his chair and physically put himself between Tom and the mini-fridge, and Tom's face broke into an evil grin as he burst out laughing. "Bastard!" Luke grumbled.

"I'm not that far gone, not yet," Tom continued to laugh, picking non-existent lint off of his jacket. "But if she ends it, you might want to lock that thing."

Finally the clock hit seven, and Tom grabbed his handful of accessories and launched himself towards the door.

"Sure you don't want me to come with you?" Luke asked rhetorically as his client sped out of the room. "Yeah, sure. I'll lock up your room. No problem."

"Don't wait up," Tom chuckled, poking his head momentarily back in.

"Toddler," Luke sighed, rising to get himself together now that the ball of energy had exited the room.

***

Emily had been in the bar for five minutes, just long enough to wish she hadn't insisted to Ada that she didn't mind going down alone.

The blue, goddess style dress she wore and the fancy up-do Ada had wrangled her hair into made her feel self conscious. The dress was a gauzy confection that left her arms and a good deal of her legs bare, and plunged low in the center to reveal quite a bit of cleavage. All in all it was much more skin than she was used to showing. It had taken the combined haranguing of Ada and the sales woman to convince her that she looked elegant rather than slutty, and she still was not sure. The way the bartender kept staring at her wasn't particularly helping matters, though it did up her confidence.

Ada had been a force not to be denied ever since Emily had showed her the invitation. She had insisted on accompanying her to the city, claiming that there was an exhibit at the Frick that she had been meaning to check out in any case. Once here she had taken Emily shopping to stores far out of her normal comfort zone and bullied her into buying the stunning, if frightening, blue dress. Well, Ada had selected the dress, Emily had chosen the color. She could not help but remember Tom holding up the blue sundress from her closet, telling her how much he liked her in the color.

He had sent flowers to the room this evening. White roses for her, and purple orchids for Ada. That had been a nice touch. Emily was convinced that her friend was half in love with him herself. Not that she could blame her, she thought as she sipped her ice water. She wished it was something stronger, but didn't want to risk it.

It was exactly 7:00 - she had just looked at the clock - when the elevator dinged open. Emily's breath caught in her chest.

It was Tom, but at the same time it was like looking at a stranger. Gone were the baggy sweaters and t-shirts designed to hide his well toned muscles. In their place was a jacket that strained to button across his chest and black pants whose seems were working overtime to stay together around his thighs. His hair was darker, brushed as it was to lie flatter around his head and curl just at the base of his collar. This was not the boy from her class, this was all man. 

Tom stopped at the entrance to the bar, giving her ample time to look at him. His eyes went straight to her, and he stood, rooted to the spot, mouth slightly open. Emily slipped off her stool and stood herself, fidgeting a bit with her clutch and wishing there was more to her dress. She saw him swallow, and then the sun came out he smiled his megawatt smile and walked the rest of the way to her.

"You came," he said, as though he had not believed it until that moment.

"I said I would," she replied nervously. "Thank you for the flowers."

His eyes followed her hand to where it gently patted the single rose bud that Ada has managed to pin into her hair. 

"You put them to shame," he told her. "May I?"

Tom reached out one hand, and Emily slowly put her own shaking hand into it. He ran his thumb over her knuckles reverently, and then brought it to his lips and kissed it softly. Emily felt her legs wobble, remembering the first time he had kissed her hand, the very day she had met him. Even then he had made her heart pound. Now, it raced in her ears like a team of horses.

"You look beautiful, Emily," he told her, eyes boring a hole into her soul. "Honestly, the word doesn't even do you justice."

"You look nice yourself," she said. 

It was no more than the truth. Her hands itched to reach out and feel the velvet stretched across him. She got a bit of her wish as he took her hand and tucked it into his arm. The jacket was soft as it looked, but the body underneath was harder than it had been. 

"There should be a car outside. The theater is down in the village. Shall we, or do you want to finish your drink?"

"It's just water," she said quickly. "We can go."

They were awkward as they made their through the lobby and down the escalator to the street entrance. Neither of them knew quite how to break the ice. Emily was intimidated by this new version of Tom. He seemed bigger here in the city and dressed so stylishly. She wondered what he could possibly see in her now. 

As expected a black town car waited for them at the valet parking. Tom beat the driver to the punch, holding open the door and helping Emily inside, his eyes trailing down her legs as he did so. He trotted round to his side with a grin for the cabbie and folded his long limbs inside next to her. 

"Ada is is alright spending the evening alone?" he asked, as if to say something.

"Oh yes. She has tickets to a dance recital," Emily answered, hyper aware of how close his splayed apart legs placed his knee to her. She could feel her body pulling towards it, as though drawn by his heat.

"It was nice of her to travel with you."

"Oh, believe me, she was happy to do it!"

"I see. Been a bit bullying has she?"

"Let's just say she has very strong views," Emily said with a laugh.

"Oh really? Such as what?" he asked, raising a curious brow.

"Oh no, you are conceited enough as it is!" she demurred.

Although really, he didn't seem so at the moment. The cocky, confident boy who owned the world seemed uncertain now. He still fidgeted, but there was a nervous edge to it instead of pure restless energy. This realization made Emily relax a bit. It seemed she was not the only one uncertain.

"So I have a champion? Excellent!" he smiled at her.

"Oh, you do. I think more out of frustration with my moping about than anything else. She is completely unsympathetic to my moods at this point!"

"Poor darling, I never meant to upset you so," he told her, melting eyes catching hers with a world of regret in their depths. "Was it very bad for you? At work?"

"It could have been worse," she sighed, deciding they might as well get things out. "No one besides Ada seemed to realize there was anything clandestine going on between us."

"Thank heaven for small favors and uninquisitive minds! So _he_ didn't make any trouble for you?"

Emily didn't need to be told to whom Tom referred. The pure venom in his voice and murder in his eyes screamed out Jim Howard's name as loudly as any voice could have.

"No, you will be happy to know that Jim transferred to the middle school! He said something about liking the courses better, but I'd say it was his more about his wounded pride."

"Good," Tom's fists clenched along with his jaw. "I have to tell you, Emily, I was nigh on crazy with worry and anger. All I could think of was walking in to your apartment to find his hands on you. I drove myself mad imagining him accosting you again, only me not being there to aid you. It got so bad one night that I had to be talked out of driving back and having another go at him. There... might have been some alcohol involved that night."

"I'm sorry you were so distracted. I can honestly tell you I have barely set eyes on him since that night. Like most bullies, he is a coward, and I think that, combined with the blow you dealt to his ego, was enough to turn him off of me."

"Well, let it stay that way," Tom grumbled, burning a hole in her. "I swear, I if he ever comes near you again, I will kill the bastard."

"Easy there, tiger," she smiled, putting her hand over his and feeling a jolt of electricity that made them both jump. "If you want the truth, Kate was more of a nuisance than Jim in this case."

"Oh god, do I want to know?" he asked in a pained voice. 

"What do you mean? How could you not know already?" she took great delight in teasing him. "After all, you have been secretly an item all this time. It has been hard, of course, keeping your burning passion for her hidden from the media due to her minor status, but as soon as she turns 18 you are sure to proclaim your love from the rooftops."

"Oh god! Tell me you are joking?"

"Oh Tommy," she made her eyes go empty and batted them furiously, "I would never joke about your love!"

"Stop that this instant!" he insisted with a horrified laugh, reaching over and grabbing her upper arms while her hands went instinctively to press against his chest.

Both of them instantly stopped what they had been doing, humor dying on their faces. Tom's eyes were consumed by black as his fingers ever so slightly caressed her bare skin. Emily could feel a swarm of butterflies flurrying in her stomach, and she could scarcely breath as she looked up at him.

"Emily," he said softly. Just her name, three simple syllables, but they sent a fire through her as if he had recited reams of poetry.

The car pulled to an abrupt stop, and Emily and Tom leapt apart from each other. Silently she cursed the driver at the same time she said a thousand prayers for him. One moment more and he would have kissed her, she was certain of it. Far less certain in her mind was what would happen next. 

"To be continued," he said with a sigh.

Once again, Tom waved off the driver and handed her out of the car himself. Emily had a moment of hot amusement as she realized this was at least in part to give him a moment with his back to the photogs along the rope line so that he could adjust certain prominent parts of his anatomy. Those black pants really held no secrets.

Emily was shy at first as they walked the red carpet. She had assumed he would simply meet her inside, but Tom was determined to keep her fast on his arm. A number of the fans lining up recognized him from earlier projects, small films, British TV, and West End Theater, and for the first time Emily got a glimpse of what his reality truly was. No wonder the sensation he made in her classroom was of no moment to him when he had girls screaming for his autograph and a photo.

Tom was wonderful with his fans, of course. She would have been amazed were it otherwise. He signed every last paper presented to him and made eye contact with each person. Still, his arm never wavered from its place around your hip. The press were even more assertive than the fangirls, shouting questions as he worked his glorious cheekbones for them.

"Tom, are you hoping to break into the American Market?"

"Is there any truth to the rumor that you've been meeting with Marvel?"

"Is this your girlfriend? Is it serious?"

He laughingly and graciously deflected all of the questions until that last one. When it was shouted out, he stopped dead and turned to look at you with a question in his eyes.

"Well, darling?" he said quietly, then quick as a flash turned back to the reporter. "That, my friend is the question of the night! I will let you know as soon as I have an answer myself. Light a candle for me, would you?"

And just like that she was whisked into the theater, a glass of champagne thrust into her hand, and ushered to her seat.

The movie was good. Very good. Tom was trancendant. He had written her that he wanted to peel back the layers and reveal the humanity, and that was just what he did. Looking at him on the screen, it was as if he had turned back the years and physically become a younger man. Emily also could see little moments in his character that mirrored movements or mannerisms of other students she knew. It was never an outright mimicry of anyone, but rather that he was gently giving voice to the quiet anguish she saw in some of her more troubled kids. How he had managed to soak all of that up amidst the flirting and the banter she would never know.

Half way through the movie, during an emotional scene with his father, Emily hand moved, as of its own accord, to interlace with his. The warmth that surged through it as he softly squeezed back served to distract her from the plot of the film. His thumb, longer than it had a right to be, began to slowly swipe back and forth over first her wrist and then the palm of her hand.

A few minutes later, Emily swallowed as he moved their clasped hands to her leg. He had leaned over to whisper to her a trivial fact about the actor playing his parent, and taken the opportunity to stay close to her. She could smell his cologne, subtle and spicy, and was painfully aware of how close he was. When his restless thumb moved to caress her thigh, just above her knee, she nearly jumped out of her seat.

"Easy love," he murmured in her ear. "Have I told you how much I love this dress on you?"

Emily shook her head, not trusting her voice, as his finger now flirted with the hem of her scarfy skit.

"It is divine. As, of course, are you. My darling goddess and lovely sacrifice."

His hand had forsaken hers now, and lay flat against her leg. Slowly it began to tease its way upward, dipping beneath the fabric. Emily glanced around anxiously, but everyone was enrapt with the film and Tom's performance. It was a performance of a different sort that was drawing all of her awareness. 

"Tom," she squeaked in a whisper, "I'm trying to concentrate on the movie!"

"I know how it ends," he purred, his mouth grazing lightly just below her ear. "I'll tell you later."

And then his talented fingers discovered the lace panties she had bought, secret even from Ada, and she was undone. As sure as sunrise, her legs eased apart, and she felt him hum in approval against her skin. There was hardly any material to push aside, and soon he was letting out an almost silent moan when he felt how wet she was.

"Oh, sweet heaven, how much I want you," he told her, voice pitched for her alone. "How I have missed finding my home inside you."

His fingers were moving against her, then dipping inside and causing her to shudder in her chair. Tom was biting his lower lip, eyes half closed in the dark as he explored her aching folds, relearning all the ways to make her squirm with just his hand. 

Emily glanced around once more to make sure that in truth no one was watching, and then slowly moved her own small hand over onto his lap. Tom's eyes shot open and he just stifled a gasp as her fingertips curled around the hard length she could feel clearly defined under the tight trousers he wore. His hips rose slightly off the seat and she gripped harder, silently moving her hand up and down along him.

"Fucking hell," he cursed, almost audible in the quiet theater. He leaned closer still, his tongue tickling her ear, and whispered "I would take you right here and now, audience be damned. Let them watch how hard I make you cum."

The sheer lewdness of his words, combined with his breath on her neck and his fingers expertly working her sex were enough to push Emily over the edge. She turned her head suddenly into his shoulder, actually biting down on his expensive velvet coat as she came around his slender fingers. Tom continued to pump into her until her shivering stopped, and then slowly withdrew his hand from beneath her skirt. Raising his fingers to his mouth, he reverently sucked her release from them, eyes closed in pleasure.

"Better than any champagne," he murmured, his hand coming to rest over hers where it continued to grasp him. "My love, please do not leave me. _Oh, do not leave me so unsatisfied_. In which case, do not leave me, for I will never have enough of you to satisfy me."

"Tom," she breathed, heart in her eyes.

" _Speak fair love, and fairly, I pray you._ "

Emily did not speak, only looked at him, not knowing what her eyes did say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, this story is running longer than anticipated, lol. Hope you enjoyed a bit more hopeful smut this chapter; next time: FULL ON SMUT!


	11. Decision Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom and Emily head back to the hotel. It's time for Emily to make a decision... and for Tom to make amends. (What better way to do that then intense, amazing sex?)

By the time the movie had ended Tom and Emily were both flushed and flustered. More than a few smirks were thrown their way, but most of them were indulgent. They made the rounds of the reception together, Tom accepting the congratulations and accolades of everyone in attendance. It was clear that his performance was the what made the movie transcend merely good and become important. Emily was over the moon for him.

Still, she could not wait for the moment when they could leave the crush of people and be alone together. His hand on her lower back as he squired her around the room was burning through the thin material of her dress, and the little wisp of underwear she sported was ruined from how aroused she was. She was certain that everyone she talked to would be able to smell it on her.

After an hour that seemed like ten, people started gradually moving towards the exit. Tom, however, showed no indication of doing so. She did not want to cut the evening short for him - he deserved to bask in his success - but Emily was dying have him all to herself. 

"Well," his director was saying, grinning at the two of them, "I don't want to keep you. I know how much Tom has been looking forward to seeing you again, Emily."

"Really?" she asked, lighting up from within.

"Really. I don't mind telling you, I feel like I know you already. The amount of time this guy spent rhapsodizing over the sexy, brilliant, talented teacher he had been seeing, and moping about being away from her... well, let's just say it's a good thing you really are as sweet and lovely as he says, or we might all just need to throttle you."

"We don't really need to talk about all that," Tom mumbled, face turning redder as he shuffled his feet.

"I'm just saying, why don't you take the lady out of here and show her how much you missed her. Have fun you two."

With a raise of his glass in salute the director sauntered away, chuckling to himself. It was just the opening Emily had been waiting for.

"Shall we?" she asked him, a shy smile tilting her lips. "One should listen to one's director, after all."

"Um... of course," Tom agreed, a slight hesitation in his normally smooth voice. 

"If you want to stay, Tom, really I don't mind," she lied.

"No, it's not that," he smiled, but his eyes were troubled. "Listen, would you mind if we left the car and walked back? It's a nice night out, and we can always hail a cab if our feet start to hurt."

"Of course," she said, wondering where this was coming from.

They walked out into the night air, unseasonably warm for March. Tom, ever the gentleman, quickly removed his jacket and offered it to Emily, smiling at how it engulfed her much smaller frame. The stars were bright in the sky above them despite the city lights, and the whole evening had a fairy tale feeling to her as they walked along together, hands joined and swinging lightly between them. 

"You really do look amazing tonight," he told her, smiling down on her.

"Thank you," she smiled back. "Tom, what is it? I can tell something is bothering you."

"You read me too well, darling," he sighed, bringing her hand up to kiss the back of it.

"Not always," she replied ruefully.

"No, you do. Even when you didn't... Emily, we need to talk about something."

Emily's stomach hit the sidewalk. After the Cinderella feeling of the past few hours, suddenly she could see it all crashing to a painful halt. Had she let herself be set up for heartbreak again? Could he really be so callus with her emotions?

"Alright," was all she said aloud as worst case scenarios played through her mind.

"When were together before, I wasn't honest with you," he began, not quite looking at her. "I kept the truth of my situation from you, and regardless of the reasons, I ended up hurting you. I will never forgive myself for that."

"I forgive you, Tom," she said quietly, realizing it was the truth.

"You are more than I deserve," he said, turning to look at her with wet eyes. "Nevertheless, I am not as kindhearted as you are, with regards to myself. I hurt the woman I love. It is nigh on unforgivable. The only thing worse would be doing so again."

"What do you mean?" she was almost afraid to know.

"Just this. You might not know this, but last year I did a Chekhov play with Ken Branagh."

Emily stared at him, once again trying to deal with the reality in which he lived. One where he worked with her idles and referred to them as friends.

"I didn't know that," was all she said.

"I have been in talks with a major studio... fuck it all, with Marvel. The comic books. Do you know it? Iron Man was their last film. I don't mean to be condescending, darling, I just wasn't sure if it would be among your interests."

"I do," she told him, going for a playful tone. "In fact, Robert Downey Jr. is on my list of five."

"Please don't tell me that," he groaned, grip on her hand tightening. "Not just before I meet him."

"Meet him?"

"Quite possibly. You see, Ken has been tapped to direct their next big tent pole movie - Thor, as it happens, and they have had me in to test for the two lead roles. The title character, of course, and his brother, Loki."

"The God of Mischief," she supplied, remembering her Norse mythology.

"Exactly. I think he is steering me that way, truth be known, and it sounds like an amazing part. Anyway, they have narrowed it down to a short list of actors, and well, I am on it."

"That's amazing!" she said sincerely. "Tom, I am so excited for you!"

"Thank you."

"But what does this have to do with me? Do you not want to get involved now that you might be filming such a big picture? I know you will have to travel a lot, be meeting all sorts of glamorous actresses..."

As Emily pictured him surrounded by a throng of women, not school girls this time but models, A list actresses, and every other beautiful female out there, she was hit with a wave of intense jealousy. Of course he would want to keep her at arms length. How could she ever compete with all that?

Tom stopped in his tracks and spun her around to face him, pulling her close in his embrace.

"Stop right there," he said, staring at her with serious eyes. "I don't want to hear another word of that. You are the most desirable woman I have ever met. If you would have me, I would not want to so much as look at another woman, no matter who she was. You are all I want, do you hear me?"

"Then why..."

"My world is going to change," he sighed. "At least, that's what Ken has told me. Walks like this one, alone with you, may not be possible unless you are willing to have yours change as well. The level of stardom that comes with this sort of movie - well, to be honest, I am having a hard time processing it. But there will be reporters. Paparazzo, gossip rags, rumors... And yes, I would be traveling quite a bit. Part of my contract would be promoting the films once they are in pre-release. I would not always be able to be there for you. I would want you with me as much as possible, but I know you love your job, and I would never ask you to give that up for me."

"I have summers off," she said, mind not quite focusing properly. "I could go with you then. If you wanted me to."

"Of course I would! Would you, though? Could you put up with all of that craziness? I have to tell you, Emily, this is what I have been working for for years. It is an opportunity that I cannot pass up. I love you, and I would love for you to share it with me, the good and the bad. There will be good too, I promise you. But if you can't, if it's all too much for you, then... I understand."

The last words were spoken so begrudgingly that despite the panic she was feeling Emily had to smile. He was giving her an out, but she did not believe for one moment that if she took it he would leave it at that. Not her stubborn, driven boy.

"This is why you didn't want to take me home?"

"To say that I didn't want to take you home is to say that I didn't want to win the lottery," he told her with a rueful smile. "I can think of not one thing that I want more in this moment than to get you alone someplace with a flat surface so that I can strip you bare and burry myself inside you for hours. But as I said, I hurt you before, and I will not do so again. Not if I can help it. You have to know what you are getting yourself into if you get involved with me. So tell me, my darling, will you risk it?"

Emily looked at him, standing their in his white shirt and loosened tie, trying not to implore her with his big blue eyes. Trying so desperately to do the right thing. It was a lot, what he was discribing. If things worked out as he hoped his life, and by extension hers, would be changed forever. She had never thought about that side of fame, the loss of anonymity. Tom had. He thought about it and how it would effect her. He had risked losing her in order to make her understand what being with him would mean. She had not realized how much she loved him until that moment.

"Thank you for telling me," she said, biting her bottom lip. "Now, would you please take me back to the hotel and ravage me already? After all, I didn't buy this dress to _not_ have you tear it off me."

His eyes widened, and then a wolf-like grin spread across his face. In a second she was pulled hard against him and his mouth was devouring hers, tongue taking control of her mouth as his hands went up her skirt and grabbed her ass, pushing her against his erection.

"You are sure?" he asked in breathless voice when he finally let her up. 

"Do you want me to say no?" she laughed.

"Don't you dare," he growled, taking her hand and pulling her down the sidewalk, eyes scanning the street for a cab. 

They ended up walking the final blocks to the hotel, empty cabs being impossible to come by that time of night. Their progress was speedy, but sporadically impaired as Tom could not resist stopping every few blocks to kiss and grope her. His eyes were wild and needy, and Emily felt just exactly the same. 

When they finally made their way into the lobby of the hotel, Tom grabbed Emily around the waist and walked with her in front of him. She was confused for a moment, until she felt the hard length of him pressing against her back. She giggled as they waited for the elevator, surreptitiously wiggling against him and making it worse.

"Stop that," he hissed.

"Well, if you must wear skin tight pants and no underwear," she teased, wiggling some more.

"Keep doing that and we will not make it to the room," he threatened, speaking directly into her ear.

When the elevator finally arrived, he herded her into it and backed her against the glass wall. Once more his mouth found hers for a scorching kiss, and his hands made their way up her obliging skirt. He grabbed her knee and wrapped her leg around his hip, bucking into her through his pants.

"Tom! The elevator is all glass!" she squeaked breathlessly.

"So?"

"People will see!"

"Let them. Let them all be jealous of me and the goddess I have ready to slake my lust!"

She was saved from finding a response by the doors opening and Tom all but shoving her out into the hallway and down the corridor to his room. The door had not even closed behind them when he was pushing her up against the wall, hands squeezing her breasts and mouth on her neck.

"Wait!" she gasped out breathlessly.

"No," he answered, biting her shoulder and licking over it.

"Yes! I have to use the bathroom! Give me one minute."

"You have three, and then I'm coming in and dragging you out," he told her, eyes dark.

Emily scampered in and quickly relieved herself, washed her hands, and then gave a once over to herself in the mirror. She was amazed at just how desirable she thought she looked. Maybe she was finally seeing a little of what Tom saw in her, she thought.

"Fifteen seconds, love," his voice called from the other room.

With a laugh, she opened the door and stepped back into the room, kicking off her shoes and tossing his jacket onto a nearby chair. Tom was standing facing her, his tie hanging loose around his neck, rolling up his shirt sleeves to his elbows. She was amazed at how erotic that simple act was, and a new wave of moisture contributed to the ruination of her panties.

When Tom's eyes landed on her he looked her up and down, taking in every last inch, and then dropped to his knees. He was leaning back a bit, his cock the only part of him straining forward, in a position of supplication. In his voice, though, was nothing but command.

"Come here."

Emily walked over to stand in front of him. His hands circled her calves and then made their slow way up her legs, pushing her skirt with them. Emily let out a breathy little cry as he reached their apex and two of his fingers reached out to swipe over her.

"So wet," he smiled.

Hooking his thumbs in their waistband, he dragged her panties down her legs. Without thinking she lifted her feet, stepping out of them. Tom brought the scrap of lace to his face and inhaled with a moan. Smirking he shoved them into his pocket before looking back at her.

"I'm keeping those," he told her.

"Why?"

"Because they are covered in your arousal and they smell of your delicious cunt," he said. "Besides, I will need something to stroke myself off with when you are not near to hand. Now spread your legs, darling. I am ravenous."

Emily widened her stance and nervously returned Tom's evil smile. A moment later his face was buried in her pussy, licking with gusto. She remembered that first night, how he had begged to have her clit in his mouth. He was not begging now, but taking. His fingers held her lips apart while his skilled tongue lapped into her, making all kinds of wet, moaning noises. She slid her hands into his hair, a bit stiff and sticky from the mousse compared with his normal springy curls, and gripped on for dear life. He had pushed his fingers into her now, curling them as he pumped in and out. His mouth was sucking and nipping her clit, pushing her to the breaking point. She was just about to cum, she could feel it, when suddenly he pulled away.

"Tom!" she demanded, a clear whine in her voice.

"Shush. You will get to cum, don't worry. But not yet. Now, get on the bed."

Unable to keep from pouting, Emily climbed onto the giant king size bed and lay back, resting on her elbows. Tom gave a feral grin and crawled on after her, moving to hover over her body. Emily reached up to unbutton his shirt, but he pushed her hands back, easily having his way.

"No," he said, "just leave them on the bed."

"But Tom!"

"Do as I say. Please love. Trust me."

Well, when he put it like that she couldn't not obey. Emily lowered her arms to the bed, hands clenching and unclenching in frustration from being unable to touch him. Tom rewarded her with a smile that lit his eyes, and her breath caught at his extreme beauty.

"Good darling," he praised her licking his lips in anticipation. "A goddess in my bed. All mine to worship. Now, where should I start?"

Pursing his lips a moment, he seemed to come to decision. Reaching down, his fingers caught one shoulder of her dress and slid it down her arm slowly, grazing her skin as he did so, until the material fell from her breast. The strapless bra she was wearing lifted her up and presented her to him, and the edge of her areola was just visible above the top of the cup. Tom drew in a hissing breath through his teeth as he cupped her breast in his big hand.

"Such perfect breasts," he remarked, squeezing it until the nipple popped out. "Made for me to suckle."

Suiting his actions to his words, he took her in his mouth, sucking and lightly bighting her nipple. Emily let out a moan and arched off the bed as he continued to worship her breast. As he sucked, his hand reached out and brought down the other side of her dress. Smiling, he switched nipples, still squeezing the first as he sucked the second. Emily realized that with the way he had brought her dress down, she couldn't move her arms even if she had wanted to.

He took his time with her tits, which in turn heightened the tension in her core. By the time he finished they were aching and distended, and her breath was panting.

"I have missed that," he sighed, a happy smile on his face. "I could spend hours on your breasts. Smother myself in them. Some day soon I plan to fuck them. I can't wait to oil them up and feel them slide around my cock."

Emily gasped at the image, something she had never thought of before, and his eyes took on a wicked gleam.

"It seems my goddess likes the idea," he chuckled. "Soon, I promise. Now, I think we can dispense with this."

He tugged her dress further down, removing it completely and throwing it off to one side. Her bra quickly followed, though he could not resist returning once more to her breast as he took it off of her, this time sucking a large bruise into the top of one.

"I can mark you now," he told her, fingers tracing the reddening on her flesh. "Let it be known to everyone that you are my girl."

The possessive tone in his voice made her whimper, and she was bucking her hips up again, wanting him to fuck her.

"Look at you, all naked for me. Raise your hands over you head, love."

Emily once more did as he told her, fingers reaching up to touch the wooden head board. Tom took his tie from around his neck and tied it quickly around her wrists, then secured it to the slats. Emily's pulse beat a frantic tattoo as she tugged and found that they did not give way.

"Comfortable? Not too tight?" he asked, tone concerned.

"I don't know if I would say comfortable," she said with a short breath of laughter, "but it's not too tight. Tom, would you please fuck me already?"

"Patience, love. I have things to do first."

"What things?!?"

"Well, I took you for granted before," he told her, eyes clouding briefly. "I hurt you. And now I have to make up for it. I've spent a lot of hours deciding how to do so. And I have decided that I am going do it by worshiping you as you deserve, as the goddess you are. So lie back love, and let me go to work."

His mouth and hands were everywhere. He caressed her body, palm sliding down her side and across her abdomen. He kissed her neck, her stomach, her thighs. He removed his clothes, slowly while she watched in open admiration at the new muscles he had acquired since she had last seen him naked, and then moved his body along hers to add to her pleasure. His fingers returned, over and over, to her center, dipping in to stoke her pleasure and circling her clit as he rutted against her leg. He rolled her over and ran his large, strong hands down her back, placing kisses in their wake as he made his way to her ass. Once there, he kneaded and pinched, even slapped her twice, before pulling her thighs apart and returning to her cunt from a new angle.

Through it all Emily writhed on the bed, moaning, gasping, whimpering as he played her body with as much skill as he had played his role in the movie they had seen. He seemed to have a sixth sense for when she was right on the edge of her orgasm, working her until she teetered on it, and then backing off to caress her other places, or kiss her long and deep. It was torture. Blissful, luxurious torture.

"I should go on longer," he finally said, rolling her back so that she was facing him. "But I don't think I can. If I don't have you now, I will perish."

Emily whined, her powers of articulate speech long since having deserted her. He kissed her again, and she felt his hips settle between her legs. She brought up her knees to cradle him, and reached down to take his cock and drag it through the pool that was her cunt. His eyes caught hers, and holding them he pushed his way slowly inside of her.

It had been a long time. She had almost forgotten how big he was. Emily gasped as Tom's cock took up all the space she had inside. The noise he made as he fully seated himself within her had Emily wondering if he had cum already, just from that one motion. She could feel him though, still hard as iron within her walls.

"God," he said, shuddering with the pleasure of it, "nothing has ever felt halfway as good as being sheathed in your cunt."

"Please," she said, managing the word.

"Hm. My goddess is demanding. Very well, my love, your wish is my command."

Slowly he began to move, thrusting long and deep inside her, hips swiveling as he did so. His eyes kept contact with her as he claimed her, making sure that he dragged his pelvis over her clit as fucked her. His hand stroked her face, her breasts, her hip. Emily rose off the bed to meet each of his thrusts, wanting him as deep inside as she could get him. Her body was so over stimulated by this point that only feeling his length hard within her would do.

Tom's pace began to pick up, and his breath came hard and guttural through gritted teeth. His mouth came down to suck hard on her neck, surely leaving another mark. Picking up her knees, brought them to his shoulders, folding her and increasing his angle so that he could go even deeper. Emily cried out as he found a new pleasure spot within her, and he laughed darkly, intensifying his movements.

"Tom," she gasped, pulling at the tie that kept her hands bound. "Oh my god, Tom, I'm so close."

"Cum for me, my goddess," he commanded, jackknifing into her, filling the room with slapping noises. "Cum around my cock. Let me feel you strangle me."

She screamed his name as she came hard around him. He had built her tension so long that the her orgasm had an intensity to it she had never experienced before. Her body shivered and twitched as she felt the wave of pleasure shoot through her, giving her wave upon wave of bliss. 

Tom pressed his body to hers, claiming her lips and grounding her as she fought her way back to reality. His hip were moving erratically now, and he was crying out with every thrust. When he came inside her, shooting ropes of cum deep into her, he too seemed lost in the sensation. Emily whispered his name adoringly over and over as he continued to pump into her, riding his high as long as he could.

It was some time before either of them could speak. At last, Tom reached up and untied her hands, bringing them down and wrapping them around his neck. She smiled dazedly at him and kissed him, taking so much pleasure from being able to do so. He held her close and rolled them onto their sides, neither caring about the slick sweat that clung to their bodies.

"Are you alright, my love?" he asked, searching her face with his eyes.

"Oh my yes," she hummed, fighting the urge to drift off.

Tom laughed and kissed her again. Neither was willing to separate from the other, despite the mess they had made of themselves and the bed.

"Tom," she said, eyes finding his as something occurred to her.

"Mm?" he asked, lazily stroking her hair with one hand.

"I love you. I just realized that I've never said it. Not out loud. But I do. I love you with everything I am. I think I loved you since that very first night. You have my heart."

"I will do everything in my power to make sure you never regret it giving it in to my keeping," he said solemnly. "Lady, as you are mine, I am yours. I give away myself for you and dote upon the exchange."

"You see, I should have cast you as Claudio!" she laughed.

It took a moment, but then he joined her in laughter, snuggling into her, breathing her in, luxuriating in the perfect moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So once again, I know that I am playing fast and loose with the timing of things. Go with it. It's fiction. (and I didn't plan it out enough) Let yourself get carried away by the smut. :-)


	12. Assembly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom puts some rumors to bed (mostly) and realizes a long held fantasy.

"We all want to thank Mr. Hiddleston for taking time out of his busy schedule to come and speak with us," Principal Davis said, smiling at Tom as a round of applause erupted from the assembled students. 

Tom was not stupid, he knew that much of the enthusiasm over the talk back was simply the excuse it provided for students to miss class. Still, there were plenty of faces in the audience that looked legitimately excited to there. They had just seen an advanced screening of his movie, one or two scenes slightly edited to make it PG13 rather than R rated. Now all of the school, teachers and students alike, were assembled to pepper him with questions about the process of making a movie.

One student in particular continued to capture his eye. Seated in the front row, dressed in her blue sundress, Emily was the picture of loveliness. He glanced in her direction and could not resist winking, a small smile on his face as he did so. She blushed becomingly, and there was a murmur of sighs and giggles from the girls sitting around her, making her face turn redder and Tom's smile grow. Acting on sheer instinct, his eyes darted to the opposite side of the room where Kate glowered downward, savagely making slashes on her notebook with a pen. Ah well, there was one vote he would not be getting in the "People's Choice Award."

"So you were here to learn how to be a regular kid?" 

Tom forced his attention back to the boy asking the question. It was hard, he was realizing, to really focus on much of anything when Emily was in the room. All he wanted was to grab her by the hand and pull her off to some deserted supply closet to have his wicked way with her. He had missed her terribly over the past two months. Almost nightly calls had not been nearly enough to satisfy his need to be with her. He could not wait until this was done and he could have her all to himself.

"I was, indeed," he replied, giving his full focus to the boy in the concert t-shirt. "My education was rather different, so I thought if I was to properly portray the character, I needed to find out what life in a States school would be like."

"And how did you find it?" the principal asked.

"Long," he said, with a laugh.

"Surely there were some things we did better than Eton," the man said, much to the derisive laugh of the assembled student body.

"Well, I will say this," Tom grinned, eyes once again finding Emily. "Your teachers are much, much prettier."

A twitter of laughter spread through the gym ass all eyes turned to where his darling was sitting. Emily was looking as though she wished the bleacher on which she perched would give way and allow her to sink into the floor, but she managed to hold her head high despite her obvious shyness.

"Were you and Miss Temple dating before you started?" a voice called out from the stands, not, he noticed, from the microphone where they were supposed to voice their questions.

"We were not," he said, sticking to the story they had created. "We began seeing each other shortly there after."

"Oooh!" the chorus of juvenile mirth called.

"Steady!" he smiled, putting all of his confidence on to make it believable. He owed her this, and so much more. "Emily - Miss Temple that is - was, of course, privy to my real identity. I needed an ally among the staff if I was going to transverse the choppy waters of American academia. And who better to guide an inquisitive actor than the resident Drama expert? It was only my great good fortune that she turned out to be enchanting as well as knowledgeable."

"Are you in love?" someone else called out.

"Ehehehe," Tom laughed, feeling a little nervous himself now. "Well, I really do think that's a conversation the lady and I should have for ourselves before sharing it with you lot. However, you all know her. What kind of a man wouldn't fall head over ears in love with someone like her?"

"I think this conversation is getting a little off topic," Davis scolded the students. "We are supposed to be discussing the movie you all just saw."

"Will you two recite more Shakespeare for us?" Janie called out from her seat near Emily, earning her a rare glare from her favorite teacher. "Well, you were so good at it! Did you practice it at home together?"

Another round of titillated laughter ran through the gymnasium, and Tom knew he would have a lot of work to do making it up to Emily. He couldn't wait to get started.

"I am afraid that I cannot so impose upon the lady," he demurred, to a chorus of suspiciously female disappointment. "However, perhaps I can extemporize a bit for you from the Bard myself:

 _What light is light, if Emily be not seen?_  
 _What joy is joy, if Emily be not by?_  
 _Unless it be to think that she is by_  
 _And feed upon the shadow of perfection_  
 _Except I be by Emily in the night,  
_ (an undercurrent of giggles greeted this, making him think that he just may have misjudged this idea)  
 _There is no music in the nightingale;_  
 _Unless I look on Emily in the day,_  
 _There is no day for me to look upon;_  
 _She is my essence, and I leave to be,_  
 _If I be not by her fair influence_  
 _Foster'd, illumined, cherish'd, kept alive."_  
  


Tom looked out on a sea of faces, mostly seeming to be comprised of swooning girls and dumbfounded boys. Ah well, it was not the worst sin he had committed against his sweetheart. No doubt she would forgive him... eventually.

"So Hiddleston, why the dark hair?"

Tom said a silent prayer for Ada, who shouted out the question, and granted the art teacher a full force smile.

"You will just have to wait and see," he teased, bringing the audience back from the brink. "I would say that by next summer, it should all become clear to you."

***

"That was supposed to make things better?" Emily demanded, grabbing Tom by the wrist and pulling him into her classroom.

"You didn't like the verses?" he asked, in what was patently a false tone of surprise.

"The verses were lovely," she snapped, coming into his arms despite the sharpness of her tone. "What I didn't like was having my love life broadcast for all to see at my place of work."

"I thought the whole point of my doing this was to broadcast our relationship to your place of business."

"Yes, but in such a was as to dispel gossip, not encourage it!" 

"You shouldn't worry so much, darling," he said, kissing her between her eyes. 

"And you should worry more," she grumbled.

"I will try if you do," he offered, before he lowered his mouth to her neck and began to suck her skin.

"Tom!" she gasped, starting to forget what she had been saying.

"I have missed you, darling," he mumbled, making his way up towards her ear. "Surely you missed me a little too?"

"Maybe a little," she allowed, rising to her toes as he pressed his body against hers.

She had in fact missed him tremendously. The last two months had been torture. Only the constant communication had made it bearable. No matter how busy he had been, and the small studio had been running him ragged, Tom had made sure to call her every day before what would be bedtime in her small New York town. He wanted, he had said, to be the last voice she heard before she drifted off to sleep, that it might help keep his memory alive in her brain and heart. As if she could ever forget anyone as magical as he was.

"Only a little?" he wheedled, lifting her up to sit her on the edge of her desk.

"Well... perhaps a bit more at night," she said on a gasp as his had worked his way up under her skirt. "You do help keep me warm."

"Oh, darling, I am going to make you so warm you burst into flame," he promised, finding her lips to kiss her senseless.

"Someone might see us," she said when he at last let her up for air, trying hard to care.

"I locked the door," he grinned, pressing his erection between her spread open legs.

"You are a smart boy," she sighed, head falling back.

"I had a good teacher," he told her smugly. "My word, love, you are wet. What were you thinking of?"

"You," she admitted shamelessly.

"Good girl!"

His hand dropped down between them, and she heard the sound of his zipper quickly being undone.

"Tom!" she squeaked.

"I am sorry, love," he said, pulling out his cock and stroking it against her. "But if I don't fuck you on this desk, I am afraid I will regret it for the rest of my life."

Well, when he put it like that...

Her panties were ruthlessly pulled to one side, and then the blunt head of Tom's cock was pressed against her entrance, begging for entrance. 

"Tom, we shouldn't," she said, struggling to maintain some grip of sanity.

"Tell me you don't want to," he purred into her ear as he rubbed over her core. 

"That's not the point!"

"That is the point. I want to fuck you Emily. Hard. On this desk. I have wanted to since the moment I first saw you, and you have wanted me too as well. Admit it. Or tell me I'm wrong. Tell me that, and I'll stop."

"Cocky boy."

"Maybe, but I'm your cocky boy. Am I wrong, Emily?"

"No," she admitted in a groan. "No, you're not. God, I wanted you to fuck me so badly."

"Wanted?"

"Want. Take me, Tom. God, take me now."

Tom growled deep in his chest and thrust into her, bottoming out in one go. Emily bit down on his shoulder to keep from screaming out, and his mouth found her chest for the same purpose. He pulled her breast free of the sundress and went to work on her nipple, quickly making her nipple into a hard pebble between his teeth. She wrapped her legs around him tightly as he rutted into her, all finesse forgotten as he acted out his long withheld fantasy.

"God, I love this dress," he grunted, hands slipping under her to cup her ass and allow him to go deeper. "When I saw that you were wearing it, I knew you I would be fucking you here. You wore it for me to have you in, didn't you?"

"Yes," she admitted, knowing it was true. "I couldn't wait to get home. I needed you Tom. Now."

"I needed you too," he told her, bringing her hard onto his cock. "Damn, I almost dragged you out of the assembly and took you in the hall against a locker. You have no idea how hard it was - how had I was! - sitting there and not being able to touch you."

"I do," she moaned quietly, hands tugging at his hair, still gorgeous when dyed a dark brown. "I could have jumped you on the stage."

"Now there's a thought!" he laughed darkly. "I would have enjoyed that."

With a final suck on her breast, he laid her back so that her head was resting on her desk. Emily felt deliciously on display, and wantonly naughty. Even though this wing of the school was far from the assembly, and it was after hours and the door locked, they were still in her classroom. It was here that he had first began to chip away at her resistance, when she had thought him a student still. He was in so man ways still that boy. A bit vain, overly confident, but smart, sweet, and passionate above all else.

"You are my fantasy," he told her, eyes devouring her. "And likely not only mine, though I alone will have the fantasy come true. Spread out on your desk for me, taking my cock in your tight cunt. I could keep you like this forever, spend my life watching you body stretch around me, feeling you milk me with your wet walls. Would you like that?"

"Yes," she whined, breath coming in fast gasps. "Please, yes."

"Desperate darling! Greedy for me. I love it. And I love you. Cum for me, love. Let me feel you choke me as I fill you up."

His hand was working her clit now, rubbing fast as his hips hammered into her. Fully clothed, he was still the most erotic thing she had ever seen, head thrown back and eyes glazed with lust. She loved him desperately, and could deny him nothing, certainly not the pleasure he was so expert at drawing out from her. She brought her hand to her mouth and smothered her cries as she came undone around him. Tom upped his pace, thrusting wildly. She would be bruised, she was sure, but she would treasure each mark for as long as they lasted, reminders of this moment. When he at last let go within her, she welcomed the stream of warmth as he shot his seed deep inside her, coating her walls.

Tom looked down at her, dress askew, still impaled on his now softening cock, and laughed joyfully. Sunshine in a blue sky, she thought.

"I love you too," she told him. "My darling boy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be one more chapter, an epilogue of sorts, to finish up this story. I have loved writing for younger Tom and Emily. Thank you all for sticking with me. I know my posting has been erratic as my life has started to get back to normal in fits and starts. I love you all!


	13. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so it ends for Tom and Emily. Thank you for sticking with me on this story. Love you all!

"Kneel before me. I said KNEEL!"

Tom began to strut forward, Loki swagger fully engaged. He slammed down his scepter and screamed at the crowd of extras gathered to cower before him.

"Is not this simpler?" he asked with a smug smile and a laugh, wading through the masses. "Is this not your natural state? It's the unspoken truth of humanity. That you crave..."

His voice trailed off mid thought. His eyes, scanning the crowd superciliously, had landed on a woman kneeling not far away. Her hair was swept up in a loose bun, and she was dressed in a devastatingly stunning blue evening gown. As her eyes met his, Tom felt Loki momentarily slip away, an altogether different magical force taking over him instead. Swallowing hard and thanking the costume department for the ridiculous modesty flap they had added to his costume, he forced himself back into the headspace of a powerful god. 

"...subjugation," he croaked out. "The bright lure of freedom diminishes your life's joy in a mad scramble for power, for identity. In the end you will always kneel."

The moment cut was called he lunged forward, almost taking out a poor extra with his scepter in his uncontrolled haste. A p.a. quickly relieved him of it, but he didn't even register its loss. The woman in the blue dress, the only woman, only _anything_ he saw in that moment, began to rise to her feet, only to be unceremoniously swept up into his arms and crushed against his metal and leather clad body.

Ignoring the laughter of the crew and the confusion of the other extras around him, Tom proceeded to kiss Emily senseless, makeup bedamned. He didn't know, didn't care, what she was doing here. She was here! Here in Ohio and, more to the point, here in his arms. He would find out the hows and the whys later, for now all he wanted to do was to feel her, to kiss her, to assure himself that she was, indeed, real.

"That's dinner, people," he distantly heard, amid another round of good natured laughter. 

Emily finally pulled away and looked up at him, a dazed smile on her face and a pretty blush to her cheeks.

"Hi," she said impishly. 

"Come," he said, pupils blown as he took her by the hand and practically ran with her back to his trailer.

"Tom, slow down!" she laughed as she tried to keep up with his stupidly long legs.

"Here," he replied, picking her up in his arms and carrying her rather than mitigate his haste.

Here arms felt so good around his neck, and her head fit perfectly just below his chin. It had been a physical ache being without her all this time.

"Alright," he said, when they were finally back in his trailer, helmet off, and Emily held securely on his lap where his hands could roam at will over her delectable body. "Speak."

"Woof," she barked, making a face at him.

"Forgive me love," he said ruefully after a startled moment. "I did not mean to be so abrupt with you. I just cannot believe you are here. My beautiful goddess in the flesh!"

"I wanted to surprise you," she grinned, kissing the hollow of his neck above the top of his costume.

"You succeeded! How did you manage it?"

"It was Chris' idea, actually," she smiled. "He knows that I have some acting experience, though nothing like this! And that I had time off for the summer. He emailed me and asked if I would be interested in making a cameo appearance."

"My brother from another mother," Tom grinned. "Remind me to thank him. Later."

He had far more important things to do at the moment, he thought. Putting action to that, he leaned down to kiss her again, hand dipping into the obligingly low cut top of the gown she was wearing. Her breasts felt even better than he remembered, full and soft in his palm. Emily curled into him, her perky little ass doing all sorts of things to the growing bulge beneath his leather trousers. Tom groaned as his mouth moved to the expanse of neck left bare by her updo.

"Hey, Shakespeare, you in here?" a voice called as his trailer door swung open. "How'd you like your surprise? Oh, well, I guess that answers my question."

Tom raised his head from the column of Emily's neck to see Robert grinning in the doorway.

"I love it, go away!" he said, grip tightening on Emily.

"Ow! Tom! Metal!" She squeaked, pulling away from him and standing up.

"So this is the lovely young school teacher we've all heard so _so_ _much_ about!" Robert said, looking Emily over and making Tom's jaw twitch. "You know, if my teachers had looked like you, I might have actually gone to class. I'm kidding, I still wouldn't have. But you are stunning. If I wasn't happily married I'd steal you away from this looser."

"Emily, this is Robert," Tom made the introduction reluctantly. In the back of his mind he could hear Emily telling him that his costar was "on her list". "Robert, Emily. MY girl."

"He is really an inspiration to us all," Robert said, taking Emily's hand and kissing it, eyes mocking Tom as he did. "How someone so unattractive could wind up with such a looker... it's mind boggling."

"Did you want something?" Tom asked him pointedly.

"I did, actually," Robert laughed good naturedly. "That thing you bought. Top right drawer of your desk. Thought you might want it, so I brought it along from your hotel room."

"You are a genius!" Tom said, appreciation clear in his voice. "Wait, how did you get into my hotel room?"

"Um... I'm me." Robert gave a little shrug and a wink. "Have fun you two. I'm going to go pick on Evans for a while."

And with that the older actor had disappeared back out into the evening air, a good natured chuckle in his wake.

"Wow!" Emily gushed, eyes big as saucers as she looked at where he had been standing. "That was amazing!"

"Hrumph," Tom grumbled, eyes narrowing again.

"Oh, don't be like that," she smiled at him. "As if I could ever want anyone else when I have the God of Mischief all to myself!"

"That's right, mortal. You were made to be ruled!" he growled in his best Loki voice.

"I do like that costume," she told him, running her hands over his chest.

"I just wish it were not so difficult to get in and out of," he said ruefully.

"How difficult?" she raised an eyebrow but blushing delightfully.

"How much of it do you need me to take off?" 

"I can work with select areas," she managed to say, face turning crimson.

"That can definitely be arranged!" he smiled. "First though, I have something to ask you."

"Okay."

"I was going to do this next month, when the shoot is finally over. But, well, you're here."

"I am. What is it?"

Tom began pacing the tight confines of his trailer, realizing for the first time just how narrow it was. He wasn't prepared to do this now! On the other hand, waiting even one more minute seemed unbearable now that she was here.

"I know that being with me hasn't been easy," he began, fidgeting with his left hand as if he were still in character. "Having your picture in the papers and magazines, your family and friends bothered, the long absences and missed holidays -"

"I knew what I was getting myself into," she said with a shrug. "You warned me about all of it."

"But through all that time you never complained. Never tried to keep me from my goal. Hell, you even talked me into some things!"

"I want you to succeed Tom. I want you to be happy."

"That's just it. Happy. What makes me happy, my darling Emily, is you. Yes, movies and plays are wonderful, but it's being able to come home to you at the end of it that I love the most. You are what I love the most. You are my north star. My dearest, darling Emily, will you do my the honor, give me the absolute joy, of becoming my wife?  
 _For I cannot be_  
 _Mine own, nor any thing to any, if_  
 _I be not thine. To this I am most constant."  
_

As he spoke, Tom opened the drawer in the small desk and drew out the velvet box inside. Dropping to one knee, he opened it and held it out before him, hand trembling from the fear of her answer.

***

Emily was so excited to surprise Tom. One thing she had learned during the past five years they had been together - it was nearly impossible to get one over on the brilliant man she loved so dearly. 

It had not always been easy for the two of them. Tom had been right about the challenges ready to pop up. Not only had Marvel come calling with the offer to play Loki in multiple films, but within a year he had also received offers from Steven Spielberg and Woody Allen. His career had taken off like a rocket, and their relationship had sometimes born the cost of his success. She tried to put aside misgivings she had, but seeing him linked to numerous starlets and models in the gossip pages was bound to cause some misgivings.

Through it all though, he had done everything in his power to assure her that his heart belonged solely to her. He made sure that even if he could not be with her physically on special days - her 30th birthday 3 years into their relationship, for instance - he called or video chatted from what ever far flung location he was filming in. And when filming was done, he always came home to her. Not to the studio apartment she had when they first met, but to a small cottage style house he had bought for the two of them outside the town where she taught with the money from his first film.

In the summers, they would also spend time in England, Tom wanting Emily to get to know his family. Emily was charmed by the warm relationship among the Hiddleston clan. His two sisters, in particular, always amused him with how they strove to keep Tom's ego in check. Watching them all interact, and how they always sought to pull her into the close familial group, Emily was able to see why he was as open and as loving as he was.

She had last seen him two and a half months ago. Tom had a week between shooting, and had gotten into town just in time to surprise her at the school graduation. Of course he had made quite a stir as everyone flocked to get a picture taken with the newly minted movie star. He made sure to stay and honor every request. He was always unfailingly generous with his fans. One interaction, though, had been unexpected.

After the last blushing teenager had finally gotten her picture with Emily's starry beau, a middle aged man had shambled up, eyes on the ground and shoulders bunched around his ears.

"I was wondering if you could sign this," Jim Howard had asked, voice reluctant and defensive. "For my nephew. He's a big Loki fan."

Tom had shot her a look full of ill-suppressed disbelief and a little hilarity. Not saying a word, he had taken the graduation program and scribbled a note on it. Emily was just able to read over his shoulder as he bent to write.

"To Gary, Remember, a little Mischief never hurt anyone. All the best, Tom. Ps - all thanks to your uncle, without whom I might never have realized the most important thing in life. When you love someone, never be afraid to admit it."

"That was unexpected," she said later, as they lay wrapped in each other's arms in the large bed they shared.

"I was stunned at first," he grinned. "I mean, the audacity of that man! But after a moment the sheer absurdity took over."

"He's in rehab," she told him. "He made amends to me a while back."

"And well deserved too! I still think I should have hit him harder."

They had spent the next six days in bed for the most part. Whenever he came home they could not seem to take their hands off of each other. It was as if they needed to make up for all of the lost time when they had to be apart.

She had jumped at the suggestion Chris had made to come visit the set. She had often wished she could be there to watch the filming, but between her busy schedule with school and not wanting to impose on his work, she had never quite brought herself to ask Tom. When he also suggested she be an extra in Tom's big scene... well, he was not the only one with a love of the dramatic!

She almost didn't fit into the blue dress she brought along for costuming. She had gained weight, and had to hold her breath to zip it. Still, after the makeup and hair people were done with her she felt like a goddess herself as she took her place among the swarm of people ready to kneel to her gorgeous god.

Tom was riveting. She watched from afar as he switched from the sweet, kind man she knew, joking with the crew and taking in every technical move they made and filing it away in that brilliant mind of his one moment, and then the next taking on the presence of a terrifying and terrifyingly attractive God. She knew that most of the people gathered around her would kill for just one night with him. He held them all captive to his charisma. So when his eyes met hers she actually felt nervous.

The effect was noticeable to her instantly, though she doubted anyone else saw. For one moment the bespelled God was gone and her own darling Tom stared back at her, his heart in his eyes. It was one of the greatest moments of her life. When he ran to her moments later, so clearly as excited as she was, it was as though her soul was shining out of her body, so happy was she.

Everything she had planned to say to him went out the window as he quickly got her alone in his trailer. She had composed a neat little speech on the flight, as there was a rather pressing matter they needed to discuss. Still, once Tom was kissing her, his magical hands wandering over her body, nothing else seemed to matter. She doubted they would have spoken much at all if they had not been interrupted.

Robert Downey Jr.! She had never in a million years dreamed she would meet him! She had been a fan all the way back to Less Than Zero and before. Fascinated by his blazing talent and his self destructive impulses. She had followed his comeback eagerly, happy that he was able to have such a brilliant second act. To be introduced to him now, even after all the other famous people she had met through Tom, was thrilling. 

And yet, all she could think was to wonder when she and Tom could get back to being alone. Happily, he seemed to have the same thought in mind, and quickly got rid of the actor she knew he all but worshiped. Emily smiled up at him, ready for the mauling to begin again, secretly thrilled that she would finally get to experience sex with him in the Loki costume. While she had never admitted it to him, she had a definite thing for his tortured prince.

Instead, Tom began babbling. It was so unlike him that at first she had been worried. Was he ending things? Surly not after the way he had greeted her. Still, what was wrong?

"I want you to succeed Tom. I want you to be happy."

"That's just it. Happy. What makes me happy, my darling Emily, is you. Yes, movies and plays are wonderful, but it's being able to come home to you at the end of it that I love the most. You are what I love the most. You are my north star. My dearest, darling Emily, will you do my the honor, give me the absolute joy, of becoming my wife?  
 _For I cannot be_  
 _Mine own, nor any thing to any, if_  
 _I be not thine. To this I am most constant."_

And then he was kneeling before her, ring box in hand. Emily blinked stupidly at him for a moment, until his face took on an almost comically panicked look.

"Of course I'll marry you!" she shrieked, and launched herself at him, knocking him backwards to land on top of him.

The ring was forgotten as his arms wrapped around her and his mouth found hers. The kiss was long and deep, all the love that existed between the two of them poured into it. Soon Tom was scrambling at his costume, undoing the jacket and then a hidden button that opened the front of his leather trousers.

"I wish this were more romantic, love," he told her ruefully as he freed his cock to stand hard and proud before him.

"Are you kidding," she laughed, licking her lips. "I'm about to have sex with Loki! Don't you know that's the dream?"

"You'll make me jealous of my own creation," he laughed, kissing her again and pressing into her. "Now, mortal, KNEEL!"

A shiver went through Emily as she got onto her knees. Tom, full Loki now, situated himself behind her and gently pushed her forward. He lifted her dress and caressed her before sliding her panties down to her knees.

"Beautiful," he purred, and spanked her lightly. "And all mine. Forever."

"Yes," she breathed, more than ready without his even having to touch her.

Yet touch her he did, using his deft fingers to make sure that she was ready for him. Before long Emily was moaning quietly, struggling to keep her voice low so as not to be heard outside the trailer. When Tom finally entered her, sliding in with a deep groan, she lost the battle and cried out, feeling full in the most delicious way. He took her hard and fast, both of them gone to the pleasure of the moment. The hard material of his costume slammed into her from behind, but she welcomed the bruises she knew would be there after. She was here, with her man, her god, and as always he made her body sing for him. When he could hold out no longer, Tom's fingers found her needy clit, and he worked her so expertly that they went over the cliff together, her wall clamping down to milk him as he shot his seed deep inside her.

"We will do that properly tonight," he told her, playing with her hand, when at last they had risen from the floor to make their way to the sofa. An square cut diamond with four surrounding emeralds fit snuggly on her ring finger, and he seemed to take great delight in catching the light with it.

"I thought that was pretty well done now," she replied, smiling at him.

"Oh, I'm not complaining," he grinned back, "but you deserve a long, slow, thorough bedding, not just a quicky on your knees to keep from being harmed by my costume."

"I kind of like the costume," she admitted, running her hands over it.

"Deviant," he teased fondly.

"Whos fault is that?"

"Guilty as charged, and proud of it! I love you Emily."

"I love you. Tom..."

"Yes?" 

"I have something to tell you as well," she bit her lip.

"What is it love?"

Emily tried to calm the butterflies in her stomach. She was so grateful that he had proposed, particularly that he had done so before she spoke. Still, she hoped that what she had to say would not change his mind...

"Remember last time you were home?"

"I'm hardly like to forget that," he smiled at her.

"I was getting over a sinus infection. The worst of it was gone, but I was still on antibiotics."

"Mmhmm," he spun the ring on her finger.

"Well, you know how I told you they could interfere with my other pills?"

"I think so?"

"Um... well, they they did. Interfere. With my pills."

"Okay."

"My pills, Tom. My birth control pills."

"Oh. OH!"

Tom's eyes went wide as he stared at her. A slow, amazed smile spread across his face and his eyes darted to her stomach.

"Emily, love, are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"I'm pregnant," she said in a rush. "We're going to have a baby."

Tom whooped with joy, his eyes bright with unshed tears. He was kissing her again, and then kissing her belly, and then her lips again. Emily's own eyes were suspiciously wet as she hugged him back. 

"We're a family," he told her, when he had finally settled down. "A real family."

"We are," she agreed, smile permanently etched on her face.

"The best day of my life was when I walked into your classroom," he told her seriously. "I thought I knew everything, but I had no idea that the most important lessons of my life were still before me. What it was to love, to be truly happy."

"And to think you found it with an old woman," she giggled.

"I found it with a beautiful woman," he corrected her. "Smart, kind, passionate. Yes, somewhat older than my own tender years..."

Emily batted at him halfheartedly as he smirked at her.

"I can't believe I almost let that stand in the way!" she said, horrified at the idea.

"All for five measly little years," he agreed.

"Well, I thought it was more than that!" 

"It could have been twenty years, I would still have loved you."

"I am the luckiest woman alive," she said, meaning every word.

"And I have life's greatest reward.  
 _It is thyself, mine own self's better part;_  
 _Mine eye's clear eye, my dear heart's dearer heart,_  
 _My food, my fortune, and my sweet hope's aim,_  
 _My sole earth's heaven, and my heaven's claim_."


End file.
